Ricochet (A collection of HP one-shots)
by nymqhadora
Summary: A collection of one-shots I've written for Harry Potter. Most likely fics I've written for QLFC.
1. Flower Petals

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, round 12, for the Tutshill Tornadoes chaser 3.

Prompt: Write a FLUFFY SLICE OF LIFE story about THE GAUNT FAMILY

Additional Prompts: control (word), radiant (word), and instinct (word) or masquerade (word)

…

Flower Petals

…

Flowers sometimes grew outside their home. When they did, Merope Gaunt spent a lot of her time outside. She would pick the petals off and watch them fall onto the ground. She couldn't control the cruelty that surrounded her but the flowers always reminded her that life could be nice. Gravel and weeds would dig into her back as she held the flowers into the sky and picked the petals raining them down around her face.

Her father knew how to spew venom and there wasn't a day that went by when her being wasn't wounded by his abuse. Her brother was almost just as bad and she knew she wasn't necessarily a saint herself but Merope couldn't help but hope that life could be different.

Petals framed her dark and pale features like a crown of a better world. He was a better world. Tom Riddle was a radiant sign that her life could be better. He was everything that the men in her life weren't. He was her way out.

…

The love potion should have taken effect. Merope sat among scattered petals and broken stems, daring to hope. She twisted a soft flower petal in her fingers and rested her chin on her knee. She tilted her head and studied the petal like a potions book. Could she ever be so delicate?

She heard the snapping of a twig and instinct took over. She was on her feet and ready to flee at the sign of danger. It wasn't danger but the man she loved. He was looking at her in a way she'd never seen before. She felt it sweep over her frame and she shivered at the feeling. She was still gripping flower petals in her hand when he stepped forward.

"Merope?" he whispered. Her grip relaxed and the petals fell onto the ground. She took a step forward and almost whimpered at being so close to him. Her heart thundered and she suddenly felt weak.

"Tom?" she sighed. He came closer to her as if uncertain. His features were soft but his eyes were so intense she thought she might fall. How long had she wanted this? How long had she waited to be loved? He was so close now that Merope felt like it was a dream. After all, how many times had she dreamt of this? She reached out a hand and glided her fingertips across his chest, he was real. Tom sharply inhaled at her touch. His hand wrapped around her waist and suddenly there was no space between them. His lips were on hers and she had never felt this before. She felt light like she could fly away. Was this happiness?

…

 _"One, two, I'm gonna cast a spell on you, Three, four, watch the owls soar, Five, six, wanna see a magic trick, Seven, eight…" Merope spun in place, her bare feet marking the gravel. She fell to her knees and she saw him. Tom Riddle walking by with his parents. Gravel was digging into her knees and she knew they were scraped but she didn't care. The wildflowers and weeds hid her from view and she was glad. She didn't want him to see her like this._

 _She could hear her father and brother arguing inside and she clenched her fists. Anger surged through her as the wildflowers around her began floating in the air in circles. She could feel her magic acting out and she tried to control it before the Riddles saw. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. One day, her life would be better. One day, she would be happy._

…

Tom Riddle brushed his fingers across her cheek and kissed her again. He couldn't explain how he felt. He felt like he was another person living this dream. It overwhelmed him and filled his chest with need. Merope gripped his shoulders and let him hold her.

Tom breathed her in and sighed.

"You're beautiful," he breathed and Merope felt like she might faint. This is all she ever wanted, ever needed.

"I love you," she held her breath. She watched his face for any sign of disgust but only found him smiling sweetly as his lips brushed across her cheek. She needed to hear it. She needed him to say it. Tom leaned into her and kissed her temple.

"I love you," he whispered and Merope could cry. She let out a giggle that startled her and he kissed her again. Flowers swirled into the air but Tom didn't notice. Merope tried to control her magic but then she realized she didn't have to. This was a good feeling, this was good and she sighed happily. She felt like all the darkness that stained her was no longer visible. The venom in her veins washed away and she felt alive. The shadows were gone from her eyes as she looked at him. Who knew that darkness could be so heavy?

Merope knew it was a moment. It was her ticket out of her cruelty. It was a love potion and she knew it but that didn't mean she wasn't going to revel in it. Let her play pretend just for a little while. Let her try and masquerade into Tom Riddle's heart. Tom pulled back so he could look at her. Color caught his eye and he picked flower petals from her hair. He smiled and she held onto him.

...

A/N: This is late and it was kind of difficult to write since I've never written anything to do with the Gaunt family but yeah, hope you liked it!


	2. Twelve Years

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, practice round, for the Chudley Cannons Chaser 1.

Prompt: Write about your OTP having an argument.

Additional Prompts: poor (word), fine china (words); "We didn't have to fall in love, we could've climbed down slowly." – Upset Boulevard, Spector

. . .

Twelve Years

. . .

"It's been twelve years, Sirius, you can't just expect to pick up where we left off," Remus sighed. He was purposefully looking out the window; he couldn't stand Sirius' stare. Twelve years in Azkaban had made it unnerving, almost frightening. He could hear Sirius' heavy breathing and his erratic heartbeat. He couldn't do it; he wasn't ready. He wasn't sure he'd ever be ready.

"Why can't you look at me, Remus?" Sirius asked. He was leaning against the closed door like he was tired. Remus could picture the slouch in his shoulders, the raggedness around his edges; he could picture the lines in his face. Remus sighed again, not wanting to have this conversation. Grimmauld Place was empty for the evening, no one there but the two of them. Remus couldn't bear it.

"It's been _twelve years_ , Sirius…I can't," Remus gasped out. His chest was tightening and he wasn't sure how long he could keep calm before he burst. He had been avoiding being alone with Sirius.

"Why?" Sirius demanded. Remus could hear the rising anger in his voice, the rustling of his clothes as he abruptly stood up straight. He forced his body not to flinch, not to respond. Sirius took a step forward, noting every tense muscle in Remus' stance. He desperately wanted to reach out and just touch him, once, anything to not feel alone. Remus shuffled his feet and put his hands on the dusty windowsill.

"I… I was alone. Every full moon was…" he took a shaky breath, "unbearable, and for twelve years I had to deal with the grief and the conflicting hatred I had for you! I loved you, Sirius! And then to hear that you killed Peter, that you killed James? I spent years not believing any of it, and then I finally came to peace with the fact that everyone was gone, that the man I loved was gone!" Remus pushed himself away from the window and spun from Sirius. He could hear the air huffing from Sirius' nose. He was getting riled up but Remus didn't know if he could stop. Every emotion was breaking in him like a dam bursting. "I was finally getting to a point where I felt okay. Working at Hogwarts and seeing Harry, I finally felt at peace. Then you were there, and seeing Peter's name on the map! Every single feeling of regret, guilt, and hurt came rushing at me! I felt like I was going through the first change all over again. I remember every touch, every embrace, every kiss…" Remus took a shuddered breath and held onto the back of a chair, anything to anchor himself. "I'm broken, Sirius. You're broken. Broken things don't mix."

"Well, poor Remus!" Sirius staggered forward. "All alone with no friends and no boyfriend! Stuck out here with the full moon! I was in _Azkaban_ , Remus! I was in Azkaban for _twelve years_! I was in Azkaban for twelve years while my boyfriend believed that I was a murderer!" Remus' grip on the chair tightened as Sirius got closer. "I finally escape, I finally expose that slimy rat for what he is, I finally come home. But everyone treats me like I'm fine fucking china! Like I'm going to break and the madness will leak out! You keep tiptoeing around me. You blame me for everything. Do you have any idea how I survived twelve years in Azkaban? Do you have any idea what kept me alive?"

"Sirius…" Remus started.

"No. You listen to me, Remus Lupin. It was you. It was you and Harry. I hung onto every memory, every moment! While the dementors drowned me in my nightmares and my hellish family, it was you, it was James and Lily, it was Harry, you all kept me alive! I kept going knowing there was a man I loved who was all alone and in pain." Remus looked at Sirius and saw the tears on his face. Sirius was standing upright with fierce determination in his eyes and with that look Remus' fear dissipated. "And he needed me, and I wasn't there."

Sirius stepped up to Remus and gently pulled him towards him. Remus allowed himself to be manhandled. He was so tired. He was so tired of being alone. Sirius' hands moved from his shoulders to his face. He brushed the stray tears from Remus' face. He lightly traced the scar on his cheek and he couldn't help the sudden feeling of love he felt towards the werewolf. He slowly leaned in, hearing Remus' sharp inhale and the pickup in his heartbeat. He hesitated millimeters from his lips, asking for permission. Remus couldn't fight it. He missed Sirius so much; he missed every part of him, every mad and shaggy part. He quickly exhaled and leaned in. Their lips met and Sirius couldn't help the low moan that escaped him. He had missed Remus so much. His whole body was like a live wire and suddenly he could feel every sensation deep in his bones, electricity thrumming along his nerves..

They moved in familiar sync. Like no time had passed at all. Everything between them had always been so intense, filled with the primal need that always consumed them.

 _We didn't have to fall in love, we could've climbed down slowly…_

Remus had almost forgotten the feeling, a connection nearly forgotten. Remus buried his fingers in Sirius' thick black hair. He was falling fast all over again; wooden toy blocks all over the fucking floor.

 _You walked back into my life, not innocent but holy…_

Sirius had the sudden thought that surviving was worth it. He gripped Remus' shirt and held on tightly. They both took a deep breath and kissed. All the hurt and loneliness drove them closer.

 _Don't wait up I won't be home, true romantics sleep alone…_

Remus made a low growl and then abruptly shoved Sirius away. He put a hand to his mouth and tried to will the sensations to stop.. He couldn't do it. He wasn't ready. Every fiber in his being pulled towards Sirius but logic told him that he wasn't ready.

"It's been _twelve years_ , Sirius…"

. . .

A/N: So yeah. This is the first fanfic I've written in awhile. Or at least for me it's been awhile. Hope you liked it :)


	3. Sky & Snow

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 1, for the Chudley Cannons, chaser 1.

Prompt: Write your Chaser Two's NOTP – Lily Luna Potter/Scorpius Malfoy

Additional Prompt(s): yesterday (word), sky blue (colour), Dollhouse – Melanie Martinez (song)

. . .

Sky & Snow

. . .

He was the day after a snow storm: sky blue, snow, and sunlight making everything seem like summer. His grey eyes reminded her of crunching snow and feeling the faint heat of the sun. He still held a sense of childhood innocence that made Lily cringe.

Albus and Lily were spending two weeks at Malfoy Manor because their father didn't think that Albus should go alone. She followed Scorpius Malfoy with her eyes while pretending to read _Quidditch Through the Ages_. He was so annoyingly oblivious that Lily Luna hated him. They had been there for a week now and Lily Luna was pretty sure she knew more about Scorpius' parents than he did.

Lily turned off her music player and glared at the table at which Albus and Scorpius were whispering. Her aunt Hermione had somehow managed to configure the player to run on magic and gifted one to each of them for Christmas. Lily had put hundreds of songs on the player before they departed for Malfoy Manor. She had taken a liking to a particular singer, and one of her songs felt so fitting for everything she had seen at the Manor.

Lily got up to peruse the many bookshelves in the Manor's library. Despite being constantly bored and walking into things she didn't want to see, _1001 Wizarding Nights_ was particularly not safe for work, she was enjoying the library. She ran her fingers over the book spines and remembered what happened the day she got there.

. . .

Scorpius' father had shown Albus and her to where they would be staying and Lily was trying her best to be polite but was miserably failing. She didn't want to be there, but her parents said that Albus couldn't spend two weeks at Malfoy Manor alone because of who they were, and then Albus had proceeded to beg her and bribe her to go with him. Lily had only relented when Albus said he would give her the money to buy a new broomstick. So there she was, two bags packed and wishing she was home. Albus dropped his bags off by the second bed in the room and followed Scorpius to Merlin knows where. Lily dropped onto the other bed and sighed. What was she going to do for two weeks? She got up and slowly unpacked; when she was done she sat on the bed for what felt like an hour. But when she looked at the clock on the wall, it had only been ten minutes.

She exited the room Albus and her were sharing and wandered the halls. Scorpius' father, Draco Malfoy, had warned them against it, but she was so bored she didn't care. She found her way back to the main foyer, but the Manor felt empty. It was so quiet and unnerving for Lily. She dug the music player out of her back pocket and put on one side of her earphones. She put it on shuffle and continued to explore.

She was walking along a wall in the foyer lined with art when she heard a noise. She stopped and took off her earphone. She could hear voices coming from a door ahead of her. She crept closer to it and noticed it was slightly open. She stood there and listened.

"My husband is away on business and I have three teenagers on the ground, you can't be here." Lily recognized that voice. It belonged to Scorpius' mother, Astoria. Lily suddenly felt like she might be eavesdropping on something that was none of her business. She peeked through the opening and saw Scorpius' mother with a man who was not Draco Malfoy. Astoria was sitting down and looking as pale as ever, Lily overheard Scorpius mention to Albus that she was sick. The man was kneeling beside her and holding her hand like she would break at the slightest touch.

Lily silently turned and walked away. She went through various halls till she finally came across open double doors. She peeked inside and saw Albus and Scorpius looking over various books. She looked at Scorpius.

He was so absorbed in the book he was reading that he didn't notice her, but then neither did Albus. She leaned against the doorway and observed them. Scorpius had the same hair and eyes as his father, but his features were more delicate, like his mother's. He had a slight smile on his lips like he was happy where he was. Lily knew that Albus and Scorpius were best friends and spent a lot of time together, but she didn't really know much about him. She felt bad for him a bit. His mother seemed to be cheating on his father and he had no clue. She shuffled her feet and sighed. Scorpius' head shot up and he smiled at her. Lily froze and hesitantly smiled back. He elbowed Albus, and Albus looked at her.

"Hey, Lily," he said, and Lily gave him a small wave.

"You're free to use the library," Scorpius offered. Lily nodded her head and stood up straight, and she headed for the rows of bookshelves ahead of her.

. . .

 _Picture, picture, smile for the picture_

 _Pose with your brother, won't you be a good sister?_

 _Everyone thinks that we're perfect_

 _Please don't let them look through the curtains_

"D-O-L-L-H-O-U-S-E, I see things that nobody else sees," Lily quietly sang. She pulled out a book and skimmed it.

"Lily."

Lily jumped and almost dropped the book. Scorpius was standing next to her, looking amused. Lily tried very hard not to notice how flawless his skin was and how much his eyes shone.

"Scorpius," she responded. Scorpius smiled and then moved to walk past her.

"Mind if I scooch past you?" he said, and Lily realized she was in the way, between two bookcases.

"Oh, sure." She moved to let him past; he just smiled at her and moved along the bookshelf to reach for a book. Lily took a deep breath and sat back down in the spot she was in. She picked up _Quidditch Through the Ages, which_ was still on the couch she was on, and opened it up randomly. She sighed and then looked up. Albus was still sitting at the same table writing down something from an old book. Scorpius was still standing at the bookshelf pulling out various books. Sun streamed through the window across the room and Lily groaned. Scorpius' hair was almost translucent in the light.

"Are you kidding me?" she grumbled. She dropped the book on the couch beside her and stalked out of the library. Lily took heavy steps through the manor, frustrated by what she was feeling. She found the room Albus and her were sharing and dropped down on the bed. She rolled onto her side and wished she was home; she wouldn't be having all these thoughts or emotions there. Lily thought about what happened the day before and groaned again.

"If he hadn't been so damn honest yesterday, I wouldn't have cared so much."

. . .

Lily spent the entire day before trying not to encounter a Malfoy. Instead, she had accidentally walked into the Malfoy patriarch's office, mid-drink. She froze when he glared at her, but then he waved her in. She closed the door behind her and shuffled nervously. She wondered if she should tell him about what she saw with Astoria. She knew it wasn't her place, but every time she looked at Scorpius she felt guilt. Would telling Mr. Malfoy be a good thing? Was keeping it to herself not fair to Scorpius and his father?

"Is there something you need, Ms. Potter?" Scorpius' father asked. Lily sighed and grimaced.

"I didn't mean to intrude. I didn't know this was your office," she said. He eyed her curiously and then downed the rest of his drink.

"There's something you want to say, I can tell. What is it?" he demanded. Lily cringed.

"I saw something I shouldn't have, Mr. Malfoy. It's been eating at me and I know it's not my place to say anything, but…" She bit her lip.

"But?" Mr. Malfoy asked. Lily looked at her feet and took a deep breath.

"I saw Mrs. Malfoy with a man and they looked…" She sighed and looked at him. "Intimate."

Mr. Malfoy looked down at his drink and sighed heavily. "You know, when Scorpius isn't talking about Albus, he talks about you." Mr. Malfoy stood, and Lily didn't like where this conversation was going. "He says you're the only other Potter who doesn't treat him like a…Malfoy."

Lily fidgeted uncomfortably. "Despite what several of my relatives say, I don't think it's fair to judge someone by their family," Lily responded. Draco Malfoy silently regarded her and then sat back down.

"Thank you, Ms. Potter, for bringing this to my attention. You are right, it is not your place, but I appreciate it all the same. I would also appreciate it if you didn't mention anything to Scorpius," he said. Lily nodded and gave him a small smile. He motioned towards the door and she quickly made her exit.

She took a deep breath and moved to make her way back to the room she was staying in when Scorpius rounded the corner of the hallway right in front of her. He smiled at her but then noticed the door she was standing directly in front of and frowned.

"What are you doing here?" he asked,.

She swallowed and moved away from the door. "Nothing, took a wrong turn is all," she quickly responded when Scorpius moved closer to his father's study. He eyed her cautiously and then looked at the closed study door. He looked confused for a second and then proceeded to go into the study, shutting the door firmly behind him. Lily stared at the door for a few seconds and then thought it best to just go back to her room.

She dropped onto the bed with sigh and rolled onto her side. She couldn't help but feel like she started something she shouldn't have. She just thought about taking a nap when she heard a knock on the room door. She sat up and looked at the door, not sure whether or not she wanted to know who was on the other side.

"Lily, It's Scorpius. May I come in?" he asked. Lily sighed and sat up properly.

"Come in," she called out. Scorpius did. He looked at her with something she couldn't place and then moved to sit beside her. Lily scooted back to make room for him. Now that she got a closer look at him, she saw that his eyes were red and slightly puffy. Had he been crying?

"My father told me that my mother has been cheating on him," he muttered. Lily looked down at her hands, overcome with guilt.

"I'm sorry, it's all my fault…"

"No. My father said he's known about it for awhile now. The man you saw is her healer. He helped her through her pregnancy with me," Scorpius said. Lily stayed quiet and let him speak. He sighed heavily and looked at her. He was looking at her in a way she hadn't seen before.

He stared directly into her eyes and Lily could feel her cheeks warm up. Suddenly he was so close she could see the specks of grayish blue in his eyes. She could feel his breath and smell him, snow and sunshine.

"My father is drinking his problems away and I don't know what to do." Lily blinked at him, stunned by the sudden confession. She swallowed and tried very hard not to look at his lips.

"Just be there for him," she managed to say. Scorpius was looking at her lips now and Lily was frozen in place.

"I'm so afraid they're going to split up. They are all I've ever known," he whispered. Lily gulped and waited.

She didn't understand this attraction to him. It was coming at such an inappropriate time. His family might be falling apart and all she could focus on was how much she wanted him to kiss her. He had been so in love with Rose when she first started at Hogwarts, but now that she thought about it, the last couple of years he hadn't been as enamored with her as he had once been. Instead, he spent more time with Lily as she spent more time with him and Albus. He was always very kind to her, helping her with Potions, and she helped him with Ancient Runes. Something sparked there that neither of them had anticipated. He was being so honest with her that she wondered if he said these things to Albus.

She closed her eyes and closed the gap between them. Suddenly they were kissing and Lily had never felt such relief. It was like all the anxiety and tension had suddenly burst and they were moving together in tandem. Scorpius was kissing her like his life depended on it. Almost as if she was his lifeline.

. . .

 _Hey girl, look at my mom, she's got it going on_

 _Ha, you're blinded by her jewelry_

 _When you turn your back she pulls out a flask_

 _And forgets his infidelity_

 _Uh-oh, she's coming to the attic, plastic_

 _Go back to being plastic_

 _No one never listens, this wallpaper glistens_

 _One day they'll see what goes down in the kitchen_

Lily watched him and then came to the conclusion that whatever happened, happened. She was tired of fighting with herself. She was tired of caring about what her family would think and how much she hated caring about someone so much. She turned the page in _Quidditch Through the Ages_ and looked at Scorpius again. He was looking at her and smiling. And if that smile wasn't so damn brilliant she would have hit him for being so unintentionally charming. He continued to look through the bookshelves and Lily smiled to herself. They may be unconventional but she'd be damned if she weren't the sky and he wasn't the snow. And they melted comfortably together.

. . .

A/N: So yeah, this was a lot longer than I anticipated.


	4. Real

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 2, for the Chudley Cannons, Chaser 1. This was also written for Ned's Pride Month Challenge on HPFC.

Prompt(s): Use the location assigned to your position as the setting for your story; Chaser 1: Beauxbatons. Write a Fanfic for each of the LGBTQplus identities and their definitions: Demisexual - Demisexuality is a sexual orientation in which someone feels sexual attraction only to people with whom they have an emotional bond.

Additional Prompt(s): (dialogue) "What a thing to say!", (word) contagious, (quote) Don't hate me because I'm beautiful. Hate me because I'm beautiful, smart and rich. — Calvin Keegan

. . .

Real

. . .

Fleur Delacour knew that she was beautiful. She knew she came from a wealthy family and she knew that she was a fairly powerful witch. She knew it and everyone around her knew it. It didn't change the fact that Fleur was reluctant to be intimate with anyone. Guys were constantly throwing themselves at her feet or asking her out in attempts to get into her knickers. She knew there was nothing there beyond the surface attraction and the thought that they would only want to be with her because of her looks made her sick.

Fleur was trying and failing to read her textbook on Charms because she couldn't get the thought of the night before out of her head. She was sitting on a bench close to the fountain in the middle of the park at Beauxbatons. She loved it there, a home away from home, and sometimes her little area in the park was what made her feel at ease. She could concentrate here. All of the other students knew not to bother her when she was sitting there lest they were subject to her sharp tongue and nearly frightening glare. For the life of her, though, she couldn't concentrate on her studies.

She had gone out with a handsome Portuguese boy the night before, hoping that his compliments and queries were genuine but they were not as she expected. They had enjoyed a lovely walk around the grounds and a picnic by the fountain, and when they retired to a small sitting room fit with plush settees and a warm fireplace, Fleur was confident that her feelings for him could develop into something more. She had even allowed him to kiss her. It was far from her first kiss but as usual, Fleur couldn't feel anything more than a flutter in her stomach. He had deepened the kiss and tried to coax her into more but the idea of being with someone intimately without feeling much more than an infatuation made her feel dirty. The boy had guided her hand to his groin and she could feel him harden under her touch. She flinched away.

"Don't do zat," she gasped trying to push him away, but he kept coming onto her as if she was begging him. Her heart dropped into her stomach and she stunned him just to get his hands off of her. Madame Maxine had walked into the room not a minute later having heard Fleur's distress. She frowned and punished the boy, she asked Fleur if she was okay, to which the girl had nodded grimly. She glared at the boy where he stood and stomped her way back to her dorm room.

Fleur pushed her Charms textbook away from her and sighed. Her gaze lingered on the fountain and she couldn't help but think about how Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel had met at her very school. It was a famous story at Beauxbatons and she longed for a love like theirs.

Her friends would talk about their love and sex lives like it was an appropriate thing to talk about. Fleur sometimes felt jealous that they were so carefree about it all. It was a contagious conversation it seemed. It was as if everyone in her year was talking about it. Her grandmother had told her since she was a young girl to be careful, that not all men were genuine with their affections and that for her, a part Veela, it would be difficult. Her friends would tell her to just do it, lose her virginity, be intimate with some random guy just to get it over with but Fleur couldn't help but feel ill every time she thought about it, bile would rise in her throat. She wanted to love someone, to have a real romantic bond with someone, before being intimate with them.

"Zer is nothing to it," One of her friends would say.

"Just spread your legs and let him do it," One of her more modern friends would say.

"What a thing to say!" Her best friend would pipe up trying to spare her the barbaric talk. She would gasp and cringe thinking about such a crude act. Fleur scoffed and grabbed her Charms textbook.

"Focus," she grumbled. Madame Maxine would get after her if she suffered in her studies. She was up for something big, Madame Maxine wouldn't tell her or her other classmates that were at the top of class, but she had told them enough to know that they were getting ready for something. Fleur glanced at the fountain once more, she thought of its significance, and smiled. She would love someone one day and they would love her. They would see past her Veela genetics and see her. Just her.

. . .

 **SEVERAL YEARS LATER**

Fleur smiled widely and watched as Bill Weasley looked over the fountain in the park at Beauxbatons. She had brought him with her to visit her little sister. He asked her about the fountain.

"Iz in honor of ze Flamels, zey met here," she said. Bill grinned at her.

"Did they fall in love here?" he asked, squeezing her hand in his. She couldn't help but blush and giggle.

"Zat is ze story," she replied. He caressed her cheek and then leaned in to kiss her. Fleur couldn't help the burst of arousal she felt at his kiss. He always made her feel weak in the knees; it was such a welcome change since it first happened. She deepened the kiss herself and then they drew apart for air. Bill was looking at her with such love that Fleur couldn't help but think that he was worth the wait. He had proposed to her the week before and Fleur had never been more certain of anything in her life.

"I love you," he whispered to her. Fleur smiled widely and her cheeks warmed.

"I love you too," she replied without hesitance. Bill chuckled and looked back at the fountain.

"I remember a time when you would look at the Goblins derisively and scoff at everything they said," he turned to her. Fleur crinkled her nose.

"Zat iz not me anymore," she replied. Bill chuckled and squeezed her hand again.

"I distinctly remember you saying something along the lines of 'Don't hate me because I'm beautiful. Hate me because I'm beautiful, smart, and rich.'" He looked teasingly at her. Fleur gently pushed him.

"You still loved me then," she replied teasingly. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her.

"I've always loved you," he replied. She couldn't help but grin as she led him along the path. She was grateful that her English was significantly better. It was definitely easier to talk to Bill and his family. Now she just needed to teach Bill French.

. . .

A/N: I hope this was okay. I went through so many rough drafts. I have never written Fleur or Beauxbatons.


	5. RAB

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 3, for the Chudley Cannons, Chaser 1.

Prompt: CHASER 1 - **Write about the Truth leading to a death** OR write about a Dare saving someone's life.

Additional Prompt(s): (word) difference, (animal) rabbit, (food) cantaloupe

. . .

R. A. B.

. . .

Regulus Black watched as Kreacher, his family's loyal house elf, limped into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. His immediate reaction was shock and anger. The Dark Lord had said that he needed a house elf, he didn't say what for or if there was any risk involved, but Regulus had believed that the Dark Lord wouldn't bring harm to his house elf; for no other reason than what would be the point? Kreacher bowed low to his master and immediately began apologizing for letting down the Dark Lord. Regulus tried to cool the anger racing through his veins. He took a deep breath and put the book he had been reading, down. He watched as Kreacher begged and sobbed for him to forgive his disobedience and Regulus didn't know what to say to calm the small creature down.

"Kreacher, please go and heal yourself. We'll deal with your punishment later, when you are well," Regulus said with the steadiest voice he could muster. Kreacher bowed so low his nose touched the floor and thanked him for his mercy. He disappeared with a crack before he could see Regulus pick up a random vase and throw it at the opposite wall. Regulus took a few more deep breaths to try and stop his hands from shaking. He looked out the window that faced the muggle street below. He needed to keep control of his temper lest he do something stupid like curse the Dark Lord's name. His mind was racing with intrusive thoughts that had no place being in his head, like why did the Dark Lord need Kreacher anyways?

Regulus shook his head as his mind went over every detail of the Death Eater meetings, every tidbit that the Dark Lord would let slip, and the first half of the conversation he overheard between the Dark Lord and his inner circle. Regulus' eyes slid to a pitch black and worn tome sitting on the highest shelf of the Black Family Library. He tried to use magic to summon it but none of the spells he used worked. Regulus grabbed the nearest step ladder and reached for the ominous tome. He brought it over to the nearest table, sat down, and began to read.

. . .

 **SEVERAL WEEKS LATER**

 _Regulus was standing on a beach, rough waves were crashing on the nearby boulders. He gazed around, a sense of dread settling deep within his abdomen. He was just wondering where he was when he saw a movement to his left. His gaze landed on a dark and filthy rabbit. Clumps of the rabbit's fur were gone, pink and bloody skin could be seen in the areas, as if the fur was ripped out. The rabbit's ears were torn and bloody and one of its eyes was red and unnerving. It stared at Regulus, his dread was spreading rapidly. The rabbit turned and hopped into a dark cave almost unseen among the many rocks. Regulus felt his feet take him after it. No matter what he did he could not stop walking into the cave. He felt overcome with fear and dread. Where was he?_

 _He saw the rabbit up ahead in the cave; it turned to look at him and then continued further. Regulus followed. The edges of the cave began to look murky, like he was seeing everything on a wet canvas; still, his feet carried him forward. They reached what looked to be the dead end of the cave but then the rabbit touched his bloodied and torn ear to the cave wall and it opened. Fire immediately met him. There was fire all around the open expanse of the cave. His eyes adjusted to the searing light and he saw that inferi were everywhere. The cave opened into an underground lake and in the middle was a small island. Regulus could see two people standing on the island, one of them wielding a wand and spreading the fire to keep the inferi at bay. Regulus called out for them but they could not hear him over the cries of the inferi. The fire pushed him back, and just as he stumbled against the cave wall, the rabbit met his eyes and jumped into the flames and everything went dark._

Regulus jolted awake, gasping. He had fallen asleep on the settee in the library. On the far table, books including the ominous tome were wide open and scattered everywhere. Regulus raised a shaking hand to his face and rubbed at his eyes, the flames from his dreams still trapped behind his eyelids. He knew vaguely, in the back of his mind, what the dream was about. It was about the Dark Lord and his horcrux. Regulus had ordered Kreacher to tell him the extent of his ordeal and what he learned about his "master" was overwhelming. Regulus went to work trying to figure out just what the Dark Lord was doing, and when he found out, he no longer believed that the Dark Lord was everything he had previously thought he was. His family had spent so much time ingraining their ideals and expectations in him that Regulus never really took the time to question them, but after seeing Kreacher injured so, he could no longer follow blindly. The difference in how he felt now and how he felt a few weeks before was tremendous. He watched his parents walk around proud in what their youngest son was achieving and all Regulus could think was how he wished he had listened to Sirius more. He thought the Dark Lord shared his family ideals but there was so much more to it than that. Death, pain, and immorality were the center points of the Dark Lord's true reign and Regulus didn't know if he could support that. He was drawn to power, and knowing that the Dark Lord _himself_ was afraid of _losing_ power, the painted image in his mind was smeared.

Kreacher had been there for him since he was a boy. When his older brother neglected him and chose to play with James Potter instead, Kreacher read to Regulus so that he could build up his mind. When Sirius was arguing with their parents, Kreacher hid Regulus away so he wouldn't be on the receiving end of blame or annoyance. Kreacher had always protected him and seeing him hurt in such a way that was his fault, Regulus could not forgive or forget.

"Kreacher," Regulus whispered, with a crack Kreacher appeared looking worn and hesitant. Regulus had yet to speak to him of his punishment. "Bring me something to eat." Kreacher gave a small smile and disappeared. Regulus sighed. He stood and then used magic to return the open books to their respective places. The ominous book stayed open on the table and Regulus walked to pick it up. He closed the book, hiding the horrible images that were on display. Kreacher reappeared with a tray of food, he placed it down on the table. Regulus stared at the book for a few seconds.

"Master, your food," Kreacher said. Regulus sighed and then handed the book to Kreacher.

"I need you to destroy this book Kreacher," he said sternly, his voice gave no room for argument and Kreacher simply nodded and left. Regulus fell heavily into the chair next to the table and began preparing his meal space. Kreacher had brought him Cantaloupe, Lime, and Chili soup. Kreacher was one of the few beings in the world to know that he hated hot meals. The soup was chilled to perfection and Regulus picked up the spoon and began eating. He supposed, as far as last meals go, it was rather good.

. . .

 **SEVERAL HOURS LATER**

Regulus drank the last of the clear potion. He coughed and spluttered, his body filled with unbearable pain. All this because he realized the truth about the Dark Lord, the demise and the fear. Regulus couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that soon it would be over. He looked to Kreacher who grabbed the locket at the bottom of the basin. The entire potion was gone, he had drunk it. The pain was very slowly beginning to ebb away. He had a fleeting thought that he might survive when an inferi grabbed his ankle. Regulus looked to Kreacher who had a horrified look on his face.

"KREACHER, GO!" he managed to yell before he was pulled into the water. Kreacher disappeared with a crack, the locket clutched to his chest as he arrived back at Grimmauld Place. Master Regulus was dead.

. . .

A/N: Fairly short and simple, I think. I liked this one To anyone wondering, the rabbit can be seen as an omen and called the "fear caller".


	6. Fear Does Not Define Me

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 4, for the Chudley Cannons, Chaser 1.

Prompt: Chaser 1 – Write about The Greengrasses

Additional Prompt(s): (animal) cat, (object) pot, (phobia) heliophobia – fear of sunlight

. . .

Fear Does Not Define Me

. . .

My mother had my arms in an iron grip and her feet never wavered even when I used all my strength to fight against her. She was trying to push me out the door into the sunlight.

"Just go outside, Astoria." She struggled as I kicked her shin but my chest began to constrict. The setting sun was casting light across my legs and the anxiety was weakening me.

"No!" I screamed as my legs buckled and I was pushed onto the sun porch. I fell onto my bottom and cried. My mother slammed the door shut and stood there so I wouldn't try to go back inside. I struggled to breathe, my body felt hot and I was trembling. I tried to shield my eyes from the sunlight but my arm fell into my lap as if it were made of lead. My chest was beginning to ache and there were dark spots in my vision. All I could hear were my sobs before I fell onto my side, eyes closed.

"Astoria!" my father yelled. I could hear the door opening and my mother sighing. Strong arms lifted me up and cradled my head. "You're okay, Astoria. I'm taking you back inside."

"Apollon! She's going to Hogwarts next year! She needs to get over this!" my mother chided. My father kissed my head and I could feel him push past someone.

"She has heliophobia, Celene! Do you have any idea how much this hurt her?" my father yelled as he carried me up the stairs. I held onto him as he returned me to the sanctuary of my room. I opened my eyes and saw Daphne leaning against my door.

"Mom's right, dad," she quietly commented. My dad briefly stopped to look at her before he carried me into my room.

"Not the time, Daphne." He sounded slightly disappointed as he said it. He carefully placed me on my bed. I whimpered at the sunset that could still be seen through my open curtains. My mother had yanked them open before she started to rant about how silly I was being. My father pulled the heavy black curtains closed and secured them to make sure I couldn't see outside. Daphne was standing in the doorway now, looking bored.

"She needs to get over it, there's no way she can go to Hogwarts being like this," she sighed like she couldn't believe she was actually having this conversation. She looked derisively at the floor. My Persian cat walked past her, her tail trailing across her leg with an undeniable sass. I had named her Arteme. She jumped onto the bed and curled up by my side. She glared at my dad and sister like she wanted nothing more than for them to leave.

"Go to your room, Daphne," my father replied. My sister scoffed, rolled her eyes, and walked away.

"She's right, dad," I piped up, but my voice was low and hoarse. My dad sighed and sat by me. Arteme meowed and blinked at my dad, he had bumped her upon sitting. I petted her and she seemed to calm, putting her head against my leg and closing her eyes.

"Your mother shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry, Astoria." He held my hand and gave me a sad smile.

"She was just trying to help me," I defended her. My mother and sister were right. I could never go to school with this fear of the sun.

"If she wanted to help you she would spend more time with you instead of pushing you out of the house," he muttered, there was something almost angry in his voice. I squeezed his hand and smiled.

"I'm fine, dad. I'll be fine."

. . .

"Okay, Astoria. This is it. You have your sun protector and your magic costume. Are you ready to go outside?" my father asked. He used his wand to cast a weightless charm on an old black pot and placed it on my head. It covered my entire face but when put just right, I could see. I had worn all the layers I could to cover my skin and my father was concerned so he used magic so I wouldn't get hot. I nodded, squaring my shoulders and smiling wide.

"Yes, daddy," I tried to say bravely but my voice slightly wavered. My dad smiled back at me.

"If it gets too much, just put your sun protector down and call for me, I'll come and get you," he said motioning to the pot on my head. I nodded and then turned towards the door leading out onto the sun porch. I took a deep breath and walked towards the door. My father followed me and opened the door. "You can do it." He gently pushed me and I walked out. My chest was tightening and it was getting difficult to breathe as the sunlight hit my face. I took a few wavering breaths and then stopped. I stood there staring at the willow tree across the yard. I focused on the tree and how it was my favorite. I thought of all the things I wanted to do but couldn't because of my fear and my chest was loosening. My breathing was less unsteady. I repeated my father's words, the ones he had said to me the day before, "Fear comes from you, but it is not who you are. It can overwhelm and hold you, but you are stronger and you can break that hold. You know who you are. Don't let this fear decide for you. Fight it." I clenched my fists and sighed. I can do it.

. . .

"Astoria Greengrass! You made me look like a fool up there! That old Dumbledore probably thinks I'm a bad mother now! Do you have any idea what your foolish fear could do to this family if it got out? Our youngest daughter is afraid of the sun! How idiotic can you be?" My mother was trying very hard not to raise her voice too much and it looked as though she was going to bust the vein in her forehead. I frowned and looked at my feet like a good little girl, but my father had already told me not to listen to anything negative my mother had to say so I didn't take her comments to heart. I had an incident in my flying class when I clammed up and refused to go outside. I had gotten better with my fear but the idea of flying towards the sun had me panicking. My mother scoffed and then walked through the school entrance, obviously too upset to even say goodbye. I teared up a little at that and started to walk towards the Slytherin common room.

"Is she always like that?" I turned and wiped my eyes quickly. A boy with curly blonde hair stood in a corridor opposite the way leading to the dungeons. He had a shy smile on his face and gently approached me. His school robes indicated that he was in Hufflepuff.

"Yes," I shyly replied. He smiled sadly at me and then held out his hand.

"I'm Justin Finch-Fletchley, nice to meet you," he smiled. I took his hand.

"Astoria Greengrass," I replied. Then I heard feet stomping and someone was pulling on my arm.

"Don't talk to him Astoria! He's a Mudblood!" Daphne was dragging me towards the common room. I was stumbling to keep up with her. When I looked back, the nice boy's shoulders were slumped and he was heading in the other direction.

. . .

"Is your sister always like that?" Justin asked. I smiled to myself and nodded. We were both sitting by the lake watching Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan skip rocks. Daphne was too busy with Theodore Nott to chastise me.

"She means well." I was working on some class work. Justin scoffed.

"She called me a Mudblood," he replied. I frowned and stopped writing.

"Justin, we were raised to believe that purebloods are better than everybody. You can't blame her for my parents' beliefs." I looked at him hoping he would understand.

"It's her fault if she chooses to believe it too," he said tersely. I thought about what he said. He stood and joined his friends. I started to pack up my books when I heard Daphne calling my name. I hurried and grabbed my bag. I ran around a cluster of trees so she wouldn't see me with Justin and his friends. I was planning on heading back to the castle when I ran into someone. I almost fell but the person grabbed my arms and helped me regain my balance. I looked up into the eyes of Draco Malfoy and pulled away. He smirked at me.

"Aren't you Daphne's little sister?" he asked. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it with his wand. I clutched my bag to my chest and nodded shyly. I could hear footsteps near.

"Astoria!" Daphne called, annoyed. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Malfoy. "Draco?"

"Your sister and I were just hanging out. She needed help with her Potions essay," he said nonchalantly. Daphne looked at me and I tried not to look guilty. She looked like she didn't buy it but then Theo called her name. She scoffed and walked off.

"Thank you," I mumbled. Malfoy took a drag of his cigarette and looked at me.

"Anytime, Astoria."

. . .

The day Scorpius was born was the best day of my life. He was everything I had dreamed of and more. Draco and I had never been so happy, it was perfect. My mother approved of the match but my father didn't at first. Once he saw how much Draco took care of me and how besotted I was with him, he changed his mind. He officially approved of the marriage when Draco tried to talk me out of having Scorpius.

Shortly after I married Draco, my health began to deteriorate. My body got weaker and weaker as the months went on. I had accidentally walked into the side of a desk and I ended up with a massive bruise. Draco called a medi-witch and I was told my body wouldn't be able to repair itself, that my immune system would soon be nonexistent.

For as long as I could remember, though, I wanted a family of my own so I could raise them right. I brought it up to Draco but he got upset. He said he wouldn't risk my health just so his father could have a grandchild. When I explained to him that I wanted a child for us, he relented.

Scorpius came and we were so happy. Then the complications came and we were advised that I stay in bed and away from whatever could get me sick. My immune system had deteriorated so much that even the common cold would kill me. Draco moved us away from society and we raised Scorpius away from other kids his age. I always regretted that. Daphne came by to visit often, she was angry at our parents. Our mother only recently gave in and told us about the curse in her family. Father was furious and refused to speak to her. Daphne wouldn't talk to either of them. She said Mom never cared about us and Dad was always too weak to stand up to her. My father visits often as well. He apologizes every time, saying he didn't know and if he could he would have done everything to prevent me from getting sick. I don't blame anyone.

I married the man I love and we had a beautiful son. I couldn't be happier despite my health. I always wanted to just have a family that I could call my own. I wanted to one day be myself and that's what I am. I am myself and I am raising my child right, the way I wish Daphne and I were raised.

. . .

Justin Finch-Fletchley finished school and became a healer. The Muggle-born always liked Astoria, I don't know why. Maybe she was just nice to him, she was always nice to everyone. I answered the door to Draco and Astoria's house and he was standing there with a bag. He smiled when he saw me, like we were friends that hadn't seen each other in awhile.

"What are you doing here?" I asked in the nicest voice I could muster. He chuckled and took off the hat he was wearing. His blonde curls looked exactly the same, but he didn't. He was older and taller.

"Hello, Daphne. I'm here to see your sister and Mr. Malfoy," he replied with a smile. I glared at him and then moved so he could come in. Draco walked in several seconds later.

"Thank you for coming, Justin," he held out his hand and Justin shook it. I watched the encounter curiously. They both headed in the direction of Astoria's room. I followed closely behind wondering what they were doing. The medi-witch Draco had hired to be around at all times checked Justin and Draco over with her wand before she let them into the room. Justin stopped and smiled at Astoria. She smiled weakly back at him. She was getting frailer as time went on. Scorpius was at school, he had grown so much and despite his protests, Astoria made him go. He wanted to be here with her.

"Astoria," he greeted placing his bag down on a nearby table. He took out his wand and began running spells over her.

"Justin," she said. They smiled at each other, a comforting and familiar smile that made Daphne's skin itch. Draco was watching on with anticipation but Daphne knew there was nothing that could be done to save her sister. She had spent hours reading books and talking to world-renowned healers to try and find a way to save her sister but she had found nothing. She retired to the house's library.

Justin joined her several hours later looking tired and forlorn. He sighed and sat in the armchair next to her. She fixed him a drink, similar to hers, and handed it to him. He took it without question and sipped at it. She knew that look. There was nothing he could do for Astoria.

"The most I can do is help make her more comfortable. She could use some more sunlight, some potions to help her. Otherwise, she doesn't have much time," his voice trembled at the end and for the first time in her life, Daphne felt for him. He had been her sister's friend when she wasn't there. Sometimes she hated herself for not being nicer to Astoria, for not helping her do more.

"Thank you," she muttered. Justin looked at her with wide eyes before he smiled and turned back to his drink.

. . .

"Scorpius, you know what's happening." I gently placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him into his mother's room, he was hesitating right outside her door. Astoria was dying, any moment and she would be gone. Draco was at her side, holding onto her frail hand like she was his lifeline. Daphne wiped her eyes and steeled herself. She walked in and sat in the armchair closest to her sister. Scorpius fell onto his knees on the other side of Astoria's bed. Tears were running down his cheeks. Astoria reached for his hand and smiled lovingly. They exchanged words that Daphne couldn't hear, but then Scorpius broke into sobs.

"Fear comes from you, but it is not who you are. It can overwhelm and hold you, but you are stronger and you can break that hold. You know who you are. Don't let this fear decide for you. Fight it," Astoria said. I couldn't understand what she was talking about but Scorpius seemed to. She smiled and turned to Draco. They were whispering and Draco began to cry. Astoria closed her eyes, a smile still on her lips. I felt everything shatter at once, like suddenly everything was broken and I didn't know how to deal with it. I brought a hand to my mouth to try and stifle my sobs, I stood on trembling legs.

Someone threaded their fingers with mine and seconds later I was crying on their shoulder. It took me several minutes to realize that it was Justin. My father was kissing Astoria's forehead and Scorpius was holding onto Draco. Astoria was gone.

. . .

A/N: This was a lot longer than I anticipated.


	7. Family

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 5, for the Chudley Cannons, Chaser 1.

Prompt: CHASER 1 - Lupine (as inspired by Remus Lupin) - Write about a character demonstrating resilience after a personal trauma or tragedy (for example, ill health, a death, etc.)

Additional Prompt(s): (word) influence, (dialogue) "I wish you had told me before I… "/ "What? Before you what?", (emotion) lust

. . .

Family

. . .

Darkness reigns where light no longer exists. Lucius Malfoy sighed to himself, he was thinking dreary poetic thoughts and he wasn't sure if this was the time. Normally, he would be up for romanticizing his struggles, but being out of Azkaban called for focus and sincerity. He was finally home after escaping Azkaban. The dreaded prison's rumors and reputation were no match for the real thing. Lucius was certain that if he hadn't forced his mind to bring memories of Narcissa and Draco to the front, he would have gone mad.

The first thing Lucius did when he got home was take a bath and look in the mirror. His skin was sallow, an almost pasty yellow, and he had dark circles under his eyes. His hair was stringy and dirty, his lips chapped, and his posture seemed slouched, though he couldn't fathom why since it was perfect as always. Lucius was confident that he would be back to his old self within the week, but from the look Narcissa and his son gave him, it wasn't likely. They had given him light hugs and kisses, not wanting to show too much affection in front of so many Death Eaters.

The only thing Lucius was worried about was trying to get back in the Dark Lord's good graces. It wasn't good for his family or his image. The Death Eaters that had helped them escape Azkaban were already looking at him like he was nothing. They had welcomed Bellatrix, albeit keeping her at arm's length, when she had escaped. She was the first to sneer at Lucius, mocking him for his lack of loyalty and spine. Narcissa slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and raised an eyebrow at her sister; Bellatrix's words quieted down before she stomped away.

Lucius loved Narcissa, although that wasn't always true. He had loathed being engaged to her at first, but the more time he spent with her during their engagement, the more he couldn't help but notice how attractive and intelligent she was. Their wedding night was one of his favorite memories, and he had vowed to always love her - even if their betrothal was arranged by their parents.

"I missed you," Narcissa quietly stated. Lucius turned to look at her. They were readying for bed and she had sat at the end, turned away from him. Her posture was stiff and Lucius didn't know quite how to reply.

"I missed you too," he ended up saying. He was sitting on his side of the bed, a hand on the bed towards her. He didn't want to reach for her, not sure how she felt about him now. She was wearing a lace and silk nightgown, her hair undone and cascading along her back. She was beautiful and Lucius felt a familiar ache.

He didn't normally wear a shirt but he was now. Looking in the mirror had done more harm than he initially thought. He was bony and marred, he was self-conscious about his body for the first time ever and he didn't want Narcissa to see him that way. He didn't realize he was trembling until he looked down at his hand. It was something that always happened in prison. The dementors made him relive every horrible thing that had ever happened to him and that he had ever done. When he had tortured and killed, he didn't feel much of anything, but after reliving them every day, memorizing every detail, his guilt was overwhelming in the end. The room was becoming unfocused and hazy at the edges. Narcissa turned to look at him and her eyes went from interested to concerned in seconds.

"Lucius?" she asked. Lucius could hear the worry in her voice but the world was slowly fading away and everything went dark.

. . .

He woke to something cold and wet on his forehead. He opened his eyes but had to squint, the light was on and shining directly into his eyes. A shadow of a hand came into view and felt his cheek.

"'Cissa?" he groaned.

"Yes, it's me, Luce'. You passed out; you were running a really bad fever. Healer Morris suspects it's after effects of…that place," she explained. Lucius squinted and blinked. She was feeling around his face, trying to discern if his fever was getting better. Lucius reached up to grab her wrist. He held her hand against his cheek and leaned into it. He sighed contentedly and smiled.

"Missed you," he whispered, kissing her palm. Narcissa visibly shuddered and couldn't help but smile to herself. He was definitely out of it. She was just about to change the washcloth on his forehead when he pulled her towards him and kissed her. The kiss was moist and almost desperate but Narcissa fell into it with ease. They were moving against each other now, she was on top of him and Lucius could feel the familiar ache started to emanate through his entire being. He wanted her, needed her. It had been so long since he felt her embrace, his Narcissa. He hesitated when she reached for his shirt buttons. He pulled away, anxiety running through him in seconds.

"What's wrong?' she asked. She looked down at his face, his brows were furrowed and every line on his face was stressed. He only ever looked like that in the presence of the Dark Lord. She hated him; she hated all of them for doing this to her husband, for breaking him. She embraced his cheek again and brushed her thumb against his wrinkles, not quite sure how to soothe his anxiety.

"I'm not…" he hesitated, "I don't look the same." He finished his sentence and watched her face for her reaction but she didn't flinch or even move away from him. She gave him a soft smile and kissed him.

"I love you," she said against his lips. He breathed. She was always his rock and now was no different. He kissed her and she moved to his shirt buttons.

. . .

"If it isn't Lucius Malfoy," a young Death Eater he didn't know the name of said as he walked by. He stopped and turned to look at him. What now? "Look at you. How the mighty have fallen. Lost your influence, did you?" The young man arrogantly commented. There were several Death Eaters around him who chuckled and sneered at him. He was just about to retort when Draco put a hand on his arm and lead him away from the chuckling crowd.

"Ignore them, Father," Draco whispered. Lucius tried to swallow his pride for his own sake but it tasted bitter going down. Draco led him to a seat beside Narcissa. He hadn't had much time to speak to Draco, but he didn't seem angry or disappointed in him and that was something for Lucius to hold onto. He was breaking easily ever since he got out of Azkaban. Narcissa and Draco were the only ones keeping him sane.

. . .

"I didn't want this for you, Draco. At one time I did, but being a Death Eater has done nothing but bring this family pain and embarrassment. I'm sorry. I wish I had been here to shield you from this," Lucius emotionally confessed. He was holding on tightly to Draco's forearm, right where the Dark Mark had been burned into his skin. Draco was trembling, trying not to cry.

"I wish you had told me before I…"

"What? Before you what?" Lucius asked. Everyone was hinting at it but no one had openly told him what had happened, not even Narcissa. The Dark Lord has tasked Draco with something, something big, and no one would tell him what.

"He wanted me to kill Dumbledore," Draco shakily replied. He broke down into sobs and Lucius couldn't think of anything to say. He grabbed Draco and brought him into an embrace. Draco was sobbing into his shoulder, sagging against his father. Lucius was tearing up now. He never wanted his son to be in this much turmoil. He rubbed Draco's back, trying to soothe him. He hadn't had to do this since Draco was a child.

"It's okay, Draco. I'm here now. You won't ever have to be at his mercy again," Lucius promised. He didn't know how, or when, but he was going to get his family out of this. Narcissa and Draco were all that mattered. The Dark Lord be damned.

. . .

It was getting harder to keep himself together. Azkaban was taking its toll in ways that Lucius didn't anticipate. Getting his family away from the Dark Lord was more difficult than he planned. At every turn, his family was faced with the Dark Lord, after he set base in his manor. Draco was back at Hogwarts and at least Severus could keep him safe. Narcissa, on the other hand, had to deal with her sister. She seemed to be sane enough to treat Narcissa nicely, but even she could be cruel when presented with reminders of her husband's blatant mistakes and his wavering loyalty. Narcissa was getting tired of taking her sister's abuse against her family. Lucius couldn't do anything but be there for Narcissa. When they were alone, she would break down in his embrace and he would do nothing but hold her.

He didn't know how much longer he could keep it in, all the rage, anxiety, and regret.

. . .

Draco. Draco was what was on his mind as he and Narcissa rushed through the battleground. Spells and curses were flying around them but all they could focus on was finding Draco and getting out of there. Harry Potter was still alive and it was only a matter of time before one of them left victorious. Despite everything he had been through, family was a constant. Family was his lifeline.

. . .

A/N: Not sure if the "(emotion) Lust" was supposed to be clearly stated like "he felt lust" or if it could just be implied like I did here. Hope it's okay.


	8. Justice is Not Always Justice

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 6, for the Chudley Cannons, Chaser 1.

Prompt(s): Each position has a different film assigned to them, which you must use as inspiration for your story: CHASER 1 - Kick-Ass

Additional Prompt(s): (quote) For every problem there is one solution which is simple, neat, and wrong. — H. L. Mencken, (object) headphones, (word) bloodthirsty

. . .

Justice is Not Always Justice

. . .

Harry watched as Ginny maneuvered through a makeshift obstacle course with fluidity he'd only seen her do on the Quidditch pitch. He was watching from a window in the Burrow. Ron had said she was acting 'barmy' but Harry didn't quite believe him. She had headphones on which surprised Harry; she seemed lost in her own world.

"Mr. Weasley and I were working on some muggle technology. I had managed to rig a CD player to work on magic and we'd shown Ginny. She took a liking to it and now she's almost always using it," Hermione explained. She had come to stand beside Harry watching as Ginny took a swig of water and began to go through the obstacle course again. They stood there for a few minutes watching Ginny jump over a 5 foot wall and duck under a metal beam. Hermione moved to sit beside Ron again as he played Wizards' Chess with his father.

"What is she doing?" Harry finally asked.

"We're not sure," answered moving his pawn forward. "She's been withdrawn since…" Harry turned to look at Mr. Weasley. He was frowning and seemed to close down himself. Ron looked up from the Chess board to look at his father.

"Since Fred and…everyone," Ron answered for him.

A grim silence filled the room. Harry looked back out the window, watching Ginny doing pull-ups on a tall metal structure. He heard Ron move one of his pieces and the silence subsided. There was a clang in the kitchen that made harry jump. He looked towards the kitchen only to see Mrs. Weasley storm out of the house and into the yard where Ginny was "practicing". Mr. Weasley and Hermione joined Harry at the window. Mrs. Weasley was yelling at Ginny, but Ginny wasn't fighting back like she usually does. She was quiet and only stared. After a moment, Ginny abruptly hugged her mom, holding her until Mrs. Weasley collapsed in tears. Mr. Weasley was out the door in seconds. Harry watched from the window, not sure what to do. Ron followed shortly after with Hermione on his heels. Harry watched, detached. He watched as Mrs. Weasley moved her hold onto her husband Ginny slipping out of the embrace. She took off her headphones and glared at the ground. Harry noticed the way her fists clenched and the way she cricked her neck like something was bothering her. She seemed to scoff and then walked off in a puff of agitation. Harry watched her leave, Apparate, and she was gone.

. . .

A FEW HOURS LATER

"Mrs. Weasley went out there to ask Ginny what she was doing. Why she's acting like this. Then she started saying how Fred's death wasn't an excuse for Ginny to distance herself from her family. She broke down in tears and Ginny simply hugged her. Do you have any idea where Ginny could have gone?" Hermione asked in hushed tones. Harry was still staring out the window as if Ginny would appear again any moment, but he knew something was wrong with her. They were dating but Ginny distanced herself from him too. When he would ask about her extensive "training", she would say that she's training for Quidditch tryouts, but Harry didn't really believe her. There was too much of it that didn't have anything to do with Quidditch.

Harry sighed and shook his head. "She won't talk to me about what's wrong," he replied. Hermione looked back to where Ron was still consoling Mrs. Weasley while Mr. Weasley was fire calling Bill in the fireplace. They were all looking for Ginny.

Meanwhile, Ginny was pacing back and forth in the Malfoy Manor library. Lucius Malfoy was poring over old tomes and kept glancing at Ginny nervously.

"Why haven't you found anything, yet?" Ginny asked in agitation. Lucius huffed and smiled in condescension.

"You FILTH-"

Ginny was in his face in seconds, holding a yew wand to his throat.

"Try me, Malfoy. TRY ME." She calmly glared at him and that unnerved Lucius. He put his hands up and met her glare head on. Ginny slowly withdrew and let him work. Lucius muttered obscenities under his breath but the red headed fireball seemed to allow that. She kept her eye on him though.

"The Ministry took most of the Dark Arts books that I had, we're working with what I've got and it isn't much!" Lucius yelled in frustration.

"That must be a first," Ginny bit back. Lucius glared at her as he leafed through another book.

"Why are you doing this? What's the point?" he finally asked. Ginny stopped pacing and stared at him with wide eyes. Lucius could feel the rage rolling off of her, towards him, at his words. He had no defense against her wrath and he knew it, she knew it. She had come to him several weeks ago, demanding his help in finding a curse so painful that it was worse than a lifetime in Azkaban. Lucius didn't understand why, and he wasn't just going to help a damn blood traitor, but she threatened him. It was as simple as that. She was ruthless and merciless and Lucius couldn't understand why. She was a Weasley, for Merlin's sake, they weren't cruel. From what Lucius had seen of the young redhead, she had a level head and skill with a wand, but she was acting reckless and Lucius couldn't fathom why.

"My brother is dead. My friends are DEAD. And some of your evil, _cowardly_ friends are getting away with it. I will not stand by while my family is in pain and they roam free. They will pay and you're going to help me," she explained. Lucius could feel every emotion heavily flowing off of her now. If she wanted to crucio him, she could and with fervor. In that moment, Lucius didn't know who was scarier—Harry Potter surviving the Killing Curse or Ginny Weasley seeking revenge for those she loved.

. . .

HOURS LATER

Hermione watched as Ginny walked up to the Burrow with her hood drawn over her head and the wire of her headphones peeking through. It was 4 in the morning and everyone had fallen asleep in disarray around the sitting room, but Hermione couldn't sleep. Not until she was sure that Ginny was fine. The Weasleys had worried themselves into exhaustion and Hermione felt obligated to keep an eye out. Harry had gone to several different places to ask around for Ginny in both Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley.

Hermione gently pushed on Ron's arm to wake him up. He opened his eyes blearily and looked at Hermione in sleepy confusion. She nodded towards the front door where Ginny had just pushed open. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley seemed to jump in unison, tiredness in their eyes but their senses focused as they took Ginny in. Hermione watched as they encircled Ginny in their arms and asked her where she had been. Ginny was quiet and let them hold her but Hermione could see that something was off. There was hardness to Ginny's eyes that hadn't been there before, as if she had come to the conclusion of something troubling.

Ginny simply explained that she needed some time to herself and that she was safe the whole time. She apologized and the Weasleys let her take refuge to her room. Hermione watched the exchange in mild curiosity. She was relieved, for sure, that Ginny was safe and home, but Ginny was acting suspiciously and she seemed to be the only one to really notice it. Harry seemed to notice it too, but he didn't take action as if he was afraid to confront Ginny about what was bothering her. Hermione watched as the rest of the Weasleys made for their rooms. Ron asked her if she was coming, but Hermione said she would clean up before going up. Ron had nodded sleepily and yawned on his way up.

Hermione picked up after the Weasleys, thinking about what Ginny could be up to but she couldn't come up with anything. Everything Ginny had been doing seemed innocent enough but there was an underlying tension that said otherwise. After she was finished, she went upstairs and lingered outside Ginny's bedroom. Hermione knocked and Ginny answered the door, still dressed in what she had arrived in.

"Can I come in?" Hermione whispered. Ginny pulled the door open wider and moved so that Hermione could walk in. She closed the door firmly behind her. Hermione was shocked at the state of Ginny's room. There was parchment everywhere, maps and books strewn here and there. She sat down on a raggedy armchair and waited for Ginny to sit. Ginny did so reluctantly.

"What's up?" Ginny asked trying to hide her agitation. Hermione softly bristled at the question.

"What's going on with you, Ginny?" Hermione outright asked. Ginny looked a little taken aback. "Everyone else is too afraid to ask but I'm not. What is going on?" Ginny smiled, part in admiration and part in irritation. She didn't need anyone asking questions, not now.

"Nothing. I'm just getting ready for Quidditch tryouts," she tried but Hermione looked at her skeptically. Ginny kept her ground and waited for Hermione to challenge her.

"We both know that's not entirely true," Hermione finally replied. Ginny smirked to herself. The last thing she wanted was Hermione figuring out what she was up to. Hermione saw the way she smirked and knew what she was thinking, so she said the one thing that might make Ginny stop being so withholding. "Harry has noticed it too." Ginny's eyes shot up at that. Hermione tried not to smirk herself. Ginny may think she was hiding whatever was going on with her well but she wasn't and she wanted Ginny to know it. Ginny scoffed.

"There's _nothing_ going on. I'm just trying to cope with the aftermath of everything. I'll be fine. Everything will be fine," Ginny sternly replied. Hermione didn't believe a single word that Ginny was saying but she didn't want to push her too much. Whatever Ginny was up to, didn't seem to be dangerous, or a danger to herself or others, so Hermione allowed it to be dropped.

"Fine. I'm going to go get some rest," Hermione curtly stated. Ginny watched her leave the room. Once the door was closed, Ginny silently cursed to herself. She couldn't let anyone know.

. . .

SEVERAL DAYS LATER

"Lorel and Jory Rowan, loyal Death Eaters to Voldemort," Ginny pleasantly chirped. The Rowans were on their knees in the middle of a forest clearing. Their wands snapped at their feet. Ginny was circling them with something akin to relish.

"We're not-" Lorel began. Ginny pushed her wand to the woman's neck and she shut up.

"We didn't-" Jory tried to say but it was no use. Ginny had her headphones on, had them on the whole time they dueled. The Rowans were tired; they had been running since Voldemort had died, running from Aurors who were trying to take them into custody to stand trial. They did not anticipate a fiery redhead to come after them. Ginny had used her wand to attack them first, but with the help of all her training, she managed to dodge every spell thrown her way by the Rowans. She had gotten close enough, within minutes, to take them down and take their wands.

"I can't hear anything you're saying, and I don't want to," Ginny spoke. The Rowans scowled at her. They knew they were defeated, had known it for a long time, but instinct kept them running. They didn't know what the redhead was going to do with them but the way she was prancing around them gave some indication that it wasn't going to be pleasant.

" _Doloris punctiones_ ," Ginny cast the curse and the Rowans were falling over in pain. They grasped at their chests and their heads, screaming in agony. Ginny wasn't moving. She wasn't smiling, or prancing like she had been. She watched in grim satisfaction as the Rowans experienced the worst pain imaginable, worse than a lifetime in Azkaban.

Ginny kept them tied up; she watched them for a few more seconds before she walked off and apparated.

Harry and Ron arrived on the scene minutes later. They were training to be Aurors and were part of the team to capture escaped Death Eaters. They secured the perimeter and joined the other Aurors currently assessing the Rowans, Death Eaters who had escaped the Battle of Hogwarts. They were tied up and yelling in pain. Harry and Ron watched as they clawed at their skin, blood beginning to trickle where they had injured themselves with the bluntness of their nails. Several Aurors tried to cast spells to render them unconscious but it wasn't working, no change occurred. The Rowans were still in pain. Several more Aurors tried other spells but nothing worked. Harry and Ron watched as the Rowans were Disapparated to St. Mungo's.

"What did this?" Ron asked. Harry was still watching the point where the Rowans had been. He turned to look at Ron, shrugged his shoulders, and sighed.

"I don't know," he replied.

. . .

SEVERAL WEEKS LATER

"We've just found the sixth Death Eater with this…this curse," Harry sighed. He was talking with the Weasleys and Hermione. It had been several weeks since they first found the Rowans who were inflicted with the painful curse that seemed to be ongoing and relentless. The Rowans haven't had a reprieve since the curse was first cast and no one could figure out what it was or who had cast it.

"Who could possibly be so bloodthirsty and… and cruel to cast this curse?" Hermione asked obvious distaste in her tone. Ginny's jaw clenched as she tried to reign in her anger.

"Obviously, anyone who hates Death Eaters, which narrows it down to almost every witch and wizard in Britain," Ginny bit out. They all looked at her like she'd grown a head.

"That may be true, but there's no excuse for taking the law into your own hands. Being a vigilante is not the answer. Most human civilizations are built on the structure of justice and if everyone were to take the law in their own hands, it'd be chaos." Ginny didn't want to argue with Hermione but her clueless interventions were starting to get on her nerves. Ginny stood and walked out the door, ignoring the calls of her name.

. . .

"For every problem there is one solution which is simple, neat, and wrong," Ginny quoted. The Death Eater at her feet was watching her anxiously. He had heard about the other six Death Eaters and he was not keen on joining them. "Mencken was an American Journalist; a friend of mine on the American National Quidditch Team recommended some of his work, and for some odd reason, that quote has been stuck in my head. See, when my brother died at the hands of Death Eaters, I was devastated. And when my friends joined him, I was angry. I thought long and hard about what could possibly make things better. The more I watched my family in pain, the more it became clear. You _cowards_ need to pay, and I will make you pay. You don't deserve the easiness of Azkaban. Losing your head is not payment enough for the pain I feel. You need to hurt more than I do." Ginny pointed her wand at the man and was just about to cast the curse when she heard the sounds of Apparition.

"Ginny, stop!" Ginny heard Harry's voice and she froze. This isn't how the day was supposed to go and Ginny didn't know what to do. Harry slowly approached her as the rest of the Aurors secured the perimeter. Ginny was frozen to the spot, incapable to move in fear of what she might do. "Ginny, look at me." Ginny reluctantly raised her eyes to Harry's. The compassion and worry she saw there made her falter.

"How?" She choked out. Harry frowned.

"We spoke to Lucius Malfoy," he replied. Ginny nodded grimly and lowered her wand. Tears were beginning to well in her eyes and she couldn't force down the array of emotions clawing up her throat.

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked. Harry looked away before meeting her gaze.

"Nothing. The curse you used on the other Death Eaters has already been reversed. The Ministry doesn't want to put you in Azkaban or anything of that magnitude, but I suspect you'll be required to go to St. Mungo's and seek counseling," Harry explained. Ginny nodded and let Harry lead her away from the tied up ex-Death Eater on his knees. She collapsed in his arms and began to cry. She let all the pain and grief wash over her, finally allowing herself to feel everything she had been forcing away.

. . .

A/N: Long, I know.

Doloris punctiones – Google Latin translation to "thorns of pain"


	9. No TV Tonight

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 7, for the Chudley Cannons, Chaser 1.

Prompt(s): CHASER 1 - Write about a witch or wizard trying to explain to a magical child how (one or more) Muggle technology works.

Additional Prompt(s): (action) charging an electronic device, (dialogue) "He tried to sell me a box that talked, so I hexed him!", (word) cartoons

. . .

No TV Tonight

. . .

Hermione groaned as she lugged multiple shopping bags past a doorway and into a wide foyer. Upon putting them down she realized she could have just used magic. This was demonstrated by her husband, Draco Granger-Malfoy, who was using his wand to bring in the rest of the shopping bags they acquired on their day in London.

A wild 4-year old Rosalind Granger-Malfoy came running past with a paper airplane. Hermione had made the airplane for her to get her to quit squirming while eating a quick lunch in a muggle restaurant. Draco had complained the entire time.

Hermione sighed and went about using household spells to put the contents of the shopping bags away. She grabbed one of the bags and took out a small bundle of cord. Draco stopped what he was doing and watched her curiously. She tore off the paper and tag and untangled the cord.

"Mummy, what are you doing?" Rosalind came into view, letting her paper airplane fall to the floor as she turned her attention to her mother. Hermione smiled to herself as she grabbed her phone. She had purchased the phone that day.

"'Mione what are you doing?" Draco asked cautiously. Hermione looked at him and the wary look on his face and let out a giggle.

"I'm a muggle, Draco. You knew this when you married me." Draco couldn't help but smile.

"Doesn't mean you're muggle ways don't baffle me," he replied.

"Mummy!" Rosalind whined. Hermione looked at her and smiled.

"Just watch, sweetie," Hermione instructed. She took one end of the cord and plugged it into the power outlet in the wall. She then took the other end and plugged it into her new phone. The phone buzzed to life and Rosalind was jumping up and down in excitement.

"What is it?" The little girl asked. Draco came closer in rapt attention. Hermione showed them the phone.

"It's a phone," she explained but Draco and her daughter just looked at her in confusion. "Okay, so you know how daddy and mummy use the floo to talk to Uncle Harry sometimes?" Rosalind nodded. "Well this is how muggles do it because they don't have magic." Rosalind smiled broadly.

"It's brilliant," Draco said in wonder. Hermione turned to him with amusement. Rosalind grabbed the phone from her hand but Hermione wasn't too worried. She moved closer to Draco.

"You say that about every muggle thing I show you." Draco chuckled and brought her into his arms. She held onto him and kissed him.

When they started dating it was the most unorthodox relationship anyone had ever seen but Draco hardly cared. She had been paramount in helping him transition into the new era. She had worked with him reluctantly in the beginning but the more they worked on their differences, the more they worked together period, made them realize that there was something else there. Draco knew that there was something, there had always been something. When they rivaled for top of the class, when he had bullied her, and when she had punched him there was always something there that he couldn't explain. So he had asked her out and she had been speechless at first, wondering about his motives but she had thought it over for weeks and finally accepted his offer. Draco has been happy ever since.

His parents did not approve of the match but could not say much against it. She was one of the Golden Trio and Draco marrying her would boost their reputation and their status. So they had agreed to it reluctantly. Hermione's friends and family were a different matter entirely. They thought that Draco had used magic to make her go out with him and the suggestion of it had made Hermione angry. "After everything we've been through Ronald, you think I can't take care of myself?" Hermione had been angry indeed. Harry had observed them and after several weeks came to the conclusion that the relationship wasn't such a bad one. He had supported them and everyone else followed shortly after.

"Mummy, what's this?" Rosalind asked, pulling on Hermione's cardigan. She gently pulled away from Draco's embrace and looked down at their 4 year old. Rosalind was holding the phone in her hand and a video was playing on it. A children's cartoon was playing on a pre-installed app and Hermione smiled. She did not look forward to explaining to Draco and her daughter about the internet, it was way too intricate.

"It's called a cartoon. It's a show that kids like you watch," Hermione explained taking the phone and sitting on a nearby sofa. The girl followed her mum on the couch and snuggled in next to her. They watched the cartoon for several more minutes before Draco spoke. He had been behind them watching as well.

"What is the purpose of cartons?" Draco asked and Hermione giggled.

"Car – _toons_ ," she enunciated. "They're a source of entertainment and education for children. But they can also be for adults and those are somewhat different." Draco looked thoughtful as Hermione stood and handed the phone to the little one. She was just about start taking stuff out for supper when the landline phone rang. She had insisted on moving to London when Rosalind was born. "I'm a muggle Draco. I want her to know both worlds." Draco had agreed in the end, unable to deny his wife anything.

"Hello? Granger-Malfoy residence," Hermione had greeted. "Ron?" She questioned and then listened intently. Hermione frowned and turned to look at Draco who looked inquiringly at her. Hermione looked momentarily mutinous and Draco was only fractionally anxious. "Thank you, Ron." She put the phone back on the receiver and turned to her husband. "That was Ron. He said that they got an incident in muggle London where a muggle store employee was hexed. They had to send some people to do damage control. Any idea who was behind this?" Hermione asked in her serious voice and Draco looked sheepish. Hermione continued to stare at him until he cracked.

"He tried to sell me a box that talked, so I hexed him!" Draco exclaimed. Hermione burst out in a fit of giggles.

"He tried to sell you a phone?" she asked and Draco nodded. "Like the one I just showed you?" Draco nodded again. Hermione sighed and then resumed with her task. "No TV tonight."

"But Doctor Who is on tonight!"

. . .

A/N: Yep. Lol. I have no idea how this ended up being Dramione, so don't ask. Lol.


	10. Numb

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 8, for the Chudley Cannons, Chaser 1.

Prompt(s): CHASER 1- Captain, Story Please, Pride of Portree - Head Canon: The Malfoys saved Severus' life and the reason nobody knows this is because the Shack burned down in the battle and everyone assumed his body burned with it. He starts over in a new country with a new name.

Additional Prompt(s): (dialogue) "You're too old for this world.", (object) zinc, (word) possible

. . .

Numb

. . .

 _"Tergeo." Lucius Malfoy's shaky hand waved over the limp body of Severus Snape. Severus' vision was going in and out, unsure of what was going on. He vaguely remembered Potter and his friends taking his memories and leaving, hadn't he died? His body was wavering with pain but he couldn't seem to make any sound._

 _"Vulnera Sanentur." Severus could hear the steady voice of Narcissa Malfoy. What were they doing? The darkness was approaching fast and there was nothing he could do._

Severus jolted awake. The scars on his neck were throbbing as if his body remembered the trauma he'd gone through. He sighed and brought a hand to his pounding head. He hated his dreams the most. He could remember every detail and all the pain. It was a constant nightmare that he couldn't seem to shake no matter how much he tried.

He moved out of the bed and reached for the variety of potions and medications on his night stand. His last visit from a discrete medi-witch had left him irritable, the young woman had told him he had a zinc deficiency and other "concerning" ailments. She had the gall to say she could brew the necessary potions for him. Narcissa may trust the chit but he didn't, and he could brew his own bloody potions, thank you very much.

He took his potions one by one, taking the necessary breaks in between to let one settle before taking the other. When finished, he finally moved to the bath to get ready for the day.

. . .

Greenland was a worthy substitute for the life in England he missed. It was sometimes dark and gloomy, just the way he liked it. His humble house provided plenty enough shade that when it was sunny outside he could stay in. His house was in a secluded area as well, just outside of a quaint town with the bare necessities. He always wanted a quiet life, where he could work on his research and potions. But, as the days went on Severus was growing restless.

Lucius and Narcissa had helped him set up home in Greenland but they never visited and if one of them did it was to bring them news or cautions and Severus didn't care for either. He didn't talk with much of his "neighbors" and he didn't care to. What was the point?

"You're too old for this world," Lucius had once commented when he had suggested that Severus go out and had readily declined. Severus took the comment and slight jab in stride. Nothing much of what Lucius Malfoy said anymore hurt him. He wasn't quite sure if anything hurt him at all anymore. Ever since he had revealed to Harry Potter the truth, Severus had felt a sort of freedom that he never knew his being was capable of.

"It is possible to not get enough sun," Narcissa had commented once when she had come to tell him of his next visit with the medi-witch. Severus had merely glared and continued on stirring his experimental strand of the Wolfsbane Potion. She had stayed for several moments after the brief exchange if only to see how he was _really_ doing.

Severus was content with his life; his body had taken over a brand new sense of eternal exhaustion. He never did more than he needed and he took his vitamins and pills look a good boy. It's not like anyone knew he was alive or anyone cared. He didn't much fancy the medals and praise waiting for him back in England. He was long past it. Nothing would bring back the losses they had grieved, and the losses had been great.

. . .

"Albus Severus Potter," Severus muttered the absurd name to himself. He couldn't believe that the Potter spawn had named his son after Severus himself and a wizard who had raised him only to be killed. Severus didn't like the way the name sat on his tongue. He was beginning to feel an unconscious obligation to the young Potter. His namesake was calling to him as if Severus had some paternal bone in his body (which he didn't).

Severus fought the urge to suddenly show up in the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley and order a Firewhiskey. No, he was better off pretending to be dead. So many people seemed to hate him even more after the war but quite a few admired him and his great courage. Severus wanted to snort whenever he heard of that ridiculous excuse. He knew this whole **fan base** was something many opposed but those that didn't, Severus felt responsible for them despite his ability to ignore and come off as indifferent. They supported him against their better judgment and he was stupid enough to find that even remotely sincere.

Severus continued to glare and scoff at the Daily Prophet article about the newest Potter. What did he expect? Thinking back on the memories he had provided, Severus could see how he could come off as some hero but he wasn't. Never would be. Severus stared out his window for a time. He looked back to his paper and sighed. Maybe it was time to go back to his old life, only for a little while.

He had felt numb for quite too long. His secluded life in Greenland was doing nothing to make him appreciate actually being alive. He needed a change. He wasn't quite sure suddenly springing back into British Wizarding Society would help but it was definitely a solution he would consider.

. . .

A/N: I would write more or elaborate but I am too tired. I was half-asleep writing this. I apologize for that.


	11. Regret (Tug of War)

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 9, for the Chudley Cannons, Chaser 1.

Prompt(s): Quaffle - Write about a witch or wizard being torn between two different people or groups.

Additional Prompt(s): (word) defeated, (image) chess set, (colour) lime green

. . .

Regret (Tug of War)

. . .

Percy felt completely and utterly defeated. It was becoming a cycle, an unending game he wasn't willing to let end. He had always aimed to be higher, to be looked upon with prestige and respect. But his heart pulled him back, pulled him home. It was a tug of war that was wearing him out. So Percy suppressed it.

He claimed defeat at least several times a day. Moments where his shoulders slumped and he was ready to quit, to go home. But he remembered his goals, the future he had desperately wished for, and he squared himself. He carried on.

There were days where Percy came across the Weasley patriarch but he couldn't muster up the courage to tell his father that he was sorry, that he was wrong. Every fiber of Percy's being refused to be _wrong_. It was against his nature and he was loathed to admit it to his father who always acknowledged him platonically, like he wasn't his son. Percy would nod and then go on his way like a part of him wasn't clawing to go back and beg his father for forgiveness. Percy resumed his work, as usual.

Every move and tug reminded him of chess. The Ministry made one move and then the Order made another. Each move and casualty was a reminder of his mistakes, like he was a Chess clock just waiting on each side to end their move. They were all pawns and most of them didn't even know it.

. . .

When Percy would start to lose sight of his path he would remember the first time he saw Cornelius Fudge. He wore these polished lime green robes that demanded attention and an air of power that seemed to reach everyone around him. Percy wanted to be like that, to be looked upon like he looked at each respected member of the Ministry. He didn't want to be his father, looked down on and endlessly insulted. Percy wanted to be more.

He shook himself from his thoughts and continued on the report he was working on. Things were tense in the Ministry; it could be felt in every corner. Scrimegeor was adamant about the security of the Wizarding World. He even went so far as to "interrogate" Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and his brother, Ron Weasley. Percy didn't feel too comfortable with that fact but his mind kept telling him that it was for the best, for everybody.

"Hey, Weesleby, you got that report?" An older advisor that Scrimegeor often consulted asked him. Percy scrambled to get the finished report out of his typewriter. He nearly knocked over a full bottle of ink just trying to hand the report over to the older official. He looked a bit annoyed at Percy but took the report nonetheless and left. Percy sighed and gathered his things. His shift was almost over and he ought to be heading back to his apartment.

He didn't like to call it home. The word tasted bitter on his tongue and whenever he even thought of the word home, he thought of the Burrow. His mother and her wondrous cooking, his siblings and their annoying yet calming chatter, his father's childlike curiosity. So Percy thought of the place he owned as nothing but "the apartment".

The Ministry seemed to be in the workings of an uproar when Percy was leaving. People were rushing through the halls and the interdepartmental memos were in larger numbers than usual. Percy wasn't stopped on his way to the floos though. So he assumed that it wasn't anything dangerous to worry about. Percy went back to the apartment and got ready for bed after a quick dinner. This was his life now, his own cycle.

. . .

When Percy arrived to work the next day, he couldn't have been more wrong the night before. The Minister of Magic was dead and the game of chess was in check. Percy did what was asked of him and he resumed work as normal but the tug of war in his being was dangerously close to ending. He knew everything was wrong. He knew that he should leave and check on his family but he couldn't. Something in him wouldn't let himself. He knew that the Minister's death was due to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and Death Eaters. He was being torn apart and he didn't know what to do. He worked through the day and did as he was told, all the while trying to think of how he could possibly _get out_.

Percy went back to his apartment, and thought of everything he had done wrong. And how desperately he hoped his family was safe. He hardly got any sleep before his cycle started again.

. . .

Percy spent weeks struggling with himself. He tried to be a good boy and just do what he was told but it was getting harder to pretend, to convince himself that that was what he wanted. He found himself one evening in Hogsmeade, dark circles under his eyes and watching Hogwarts like it was his lifeline. Was Ginny in there? Ron? Percy was desperate for any scrap of evidence that his family was okay.

He didn't know how long he was there just watching the silhouette of Hogwarts fade with the moonlight. He dragged himself down the road. Madame Rosmerta's was closed but Percy traveled further down and saw that the Hog's Head was still lit. He almost stumbled inside but managed to grab his footing. The run down place was sparsely occupied. He sat at the counter and ordered a Firewhisky. The barkeep eyed him as if trying to discern something but Percy didn't notice.

"Are you a Weasley?" The man asked. Percy sighed and took a big gulp of the Firewhisky placed in front of him. He looked at the man.

"Why?" He asked. The man looked a little disgruntled at his tone but answered him anyways.

"I know your family. I know the Order but I've never seen you before. And yet, every physical feature of you screams Weasley." Percy drank more of his drink and looked around as if saying he was a Weasley was somehow incriminating.

"Yeah, I'm Percy Weasley," he let out. It felt like a sigh of relief. Somehow acknowledging that he was, in fact, a Weasley was life-affirming. It's like he had kept everything in and saying his own name out loud was the key that let it all out. "Is…Is my family okay?" The man stared at him long and hard.

"Yes, they're fine. Fine as anyone can be these days at least." The man refilled his drink. Percy sighed and hung his head in relief. Every what if and possible scenario he had been swirling in his head for weeks was suddenly gone. His family was safe.

"Thank you. It was killing me not to know." The man eyed Percy.

"Why aren't you with them?" he asked. Percy squared his shoulders and tried not to get defensive.

"I…I made a mistake," he replied. The man seemed satisfied with his answer though and Percy was grateful.

"Do you regret this mistake?" Percy nodded stiffly.

"More than anything."

"Maybe I can help you."

. . .

A/N: Yep. I really didn't know what to write this round and this is what came out. So…yeah.


	12. Not Again

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 11, for the Chudley Cannons, Chaser 1.

Prompt(s): Write about losing someone/thing on a windy day(s) OR winning someone/thing on a rainy night(s).

Additional Prompt(s): (song) Let It All Go - BIRDY + RHODES, (emotion) bitterness, (dialogue) "You can't start a new chapter of your life if you keep re-reading the last one."

. . .

Not Again

. . .

Hermione didn't know when it started. She couldn't pinpoint a time or place in which her feelings shifted. She did know that it was insane. It was a silly notion and completely ridiculous to even consider. Hermione couldn't deny how she felt though.

They had been working together for nine years now. It had only been a couple of years though since Headmistress McGonagall had asked them to work _together_ on a new program for the students as well as a new avenue for income. The Ministry only allowed them a certain amount of money to restore Hogwarts, and they were always wanting in other areas.

Severus Snape was dead for approximately six minutes before he was found by the Malfoys. It was only because of Narcissa's quick thinking and steady demeanor that she and Lucius managed to save Severus at all. She had always been quite talented in healing spells, and though she could have pursued a career at St. Mungo's it was improper for a witch of her stature to take on such an occupation. It's been ten years since the night he died and Severus still wasn't sure if he was grateful that he was alive.

Minerva had propositioned him with the idea of selling "Hogwarts Sanctioned Potions" several years before. He got to keep a decent percentage of the profits while the rest went to the school. The Headmistress had the nerve to suggest that he needed an assistant. Severus had scoffed at the idea but after several weeks of classes, making the potions, and his other duties, Severus was exhausted and conceded to the suggestion of an assistant. The problem after that was " _who_ ". Minerva had brought on several in-training potion makers but none were up to par. It was only after the Muggle Studies teacher and head of the "Muggle-born Society", Hermione Jean Granger, volunteered her time did Severus find a suitable assistant. He was loathed to admit it. In his opinion, giving Granger too much praise for what she already knew she could do quite proficiently was a wasted effort. He had no intention of expressing his appreciation in her regard.

So they had worked together for several years on the now established line of potions. It was with a thinly-veiled order that Minerva told Severus that he _would_ work with Granger on the "Muggle-born Society". He was against it, being a Half-Blood, he didn't see the point. But apparently, it was the condition in which Ms. Granger volunteered her time so freely to their new endeavor.

Severus didn't understand why she wanted him on the program but he didn't want to ask her either. So he attended the meetings, gave his ideas and suggestions here and there, and feigned indifference in every other venture.

It was with this work schedule that Hermione grew closer to one Severus Snape. He was pretty much nineteen years her senior but Hermione, who was now twenty-nine herself, didn't see much of a problem with that. He was forty-eight, and didn't seem to lose one ounce of self-confidence or his snarky habits even after he had died and pretty much told all his secrets to the bane of his existence.

Harry Potter had told everyone what Severus did for the Order and for him; it was only because of that that Severus was allowed back at Hogwarts and given his old job back. Many people wanted to thank him but Severus kept to himself. He didn't accept the medals they tried to give to him, and Ms. Granger had told him that the Potter spawn kept them for him. He seemed to resume where he had left off before he killed Dumbledore, bitter and unimportant in the eyes of the world. He wanted no interaction with anyone from the Order or any of his former students. He only tolerated Granger and the Longbottom boy because they were now professors at Hogwarts themselves. He wanted to resume his insignificant way of life.

This is what Severus had resigned himself to until Ms. Granger came into his life. He had been content with barely interacting with her but after the program was put in place, he spent more time with her than he anticipated. He could feel himself opening up to the young woman and he wasn't comfortable with it. They often ended their work in arguments and tense silences. Either she would press too hard on his past or he would insult her beyond propriety. In-between that he often gave in to her questions and observation, he would be gentle to her in return. These moments were the moments that confused Severus. When had he become so sentimental? When had he ever been nice to Hermione Granger?

It was these moments that won Hermione over. She always had a general respect and appreciation for him but after spending several years getting to know him, no matter how reluctant he was, the more she fell for him. It wasn't intentional and quite frankly was a shock when she realized. It made her uneasy and unsure of how to proceed. Did he even feel the same? Should she voice it out loud? Would he return her affections or spurn her? Would she be willing to risk the sort of camaraderie relationship she had developed with him?

. . .

 _I've been sleepless at night_ _  
_ _Cause I don't know how I feel_ _  
_ _I've been waiting on you_ _  
_ _Just to say something real_ _  
_ _There's a right on the wrong and I think you know_

"Not that I care but you're surprisingly quiet today," Severus remarked. Hermione froze in her steps; she cursed herself for being glaringly obvious. She had hoped that if she just stayed quiet and did what needed to be done that he wouldn't notice and she could go on trying to stop the feelings swirling in her chest. She continued walking to the table opposite his. She laid out the potions ingredients she gathered from his cupboard and went about separating the ingredients according to the several potions they were working on.

"It's been a long day," she simply replied. Severus eyes her curiously from his place at a cauldron. He was stirring the potion counter clockwise, counting each rotation before he set it to simmer and joined her at her table.

"Any particular reason you seem agitated?" he snidely asked. Hermione sighed heavily and continued her task. He started grabbing various potions ingredients, chopping and mincing. It wasn't odd for her to be irritable but an hour into their work and she'd be ranting about it but she stayed quiet. Whenever he reached for an ingredient across from her she would stiffen and move millimeters away from his proximity. It didn't bother him but she hadn't acted this way since she first saw him again after the Battle of Hogwarts. Quite frankly, he thought they were past all this. Severus sighed in turn and continued his own task.

"It's not important," she felt obligated to answer him and didn't know how. Of course it was important. She was falling for her former professor and now colleague. She wasn't even sure if he was capable of having the same affections for her. She hated the emotions now overtaking her being. She felt like some love sick school girl with a ridiculous crush. It was stupid and she hated it. The problem was she wasn't a school girl, she was a grown woman, and it wasn't a crush, it was just _more_.

"Whatever it is I'm sure you'll feel better if you confide in someone?" He offered. It wasn't a direct offer. He said "someone" instead of "me" but Hermione appreciated the offer all the same. She had learned to speak " _Snape_ " a year into their working relationship. She supposed she could read him better than most.

"It's…" she hesitated. She continued sorting the necessary ingredients, throwing out what was damaged and what was unsuitable for _their_ potions. "I have feelings for someone." Severus hesitated in his movements, it was a second but Hermione caught it all the same. She continued on as if she didn't notice. "And it is completely idiotic. There is no way in the world that this person feels the same way I do. It's unprofessional and confusing. I don't know what to do." She let out in a rush. She continued on with what she was doing, she didn't dare say anymore. The silence was awkward between them for several minutes before he finally spoke.

"I don't have much experience in this situation and what experience I do have is…insufficient. I don't pretend to be an expert but the natural course for this type of thing, I believe, is just to tell the individual how you feel," he drily replied. Hermione halted her movements before she finally continued. They were quiet for the remainder of their session. It was only when Hermione had finished cleaning her table that she turned to Severus. Her heart was hammering and her emotions were now a hurricane in the center of her being.

"Severus…" she hesitated. He turned to look at her. He was putting the finishing touches on the potions they had made that night. Some of them needed to simmer until morning. His mind was wrapped up in what needed to be done the next day when he saw the look on her face. It was a sort of fearful determination with a hint of desperation. Severus swallowed and realized what was happening. "I'm falling in love with you." She sighed in a resigned bravery that he knew only she could muster. He was frozen. His mind went blank in an instant and he couldn't think or feel. It went on like that for a moment before she looked down at her feet and rushed off in a blur.

 _Morning has come and I have to go_

 _I don't know why, I don't know why_ _  
_ _We need to break so hard_ _  
_ _I don't know why we break so hard_

. . .

"Why you came to talk to me about this is unclear but I don't know what you expect me to say or do," Minerva tersely said. Severus seethed and stopped his pacing to look at her. After recounting what Ms. Granger had confessed to him, he didn't know why he was there either.

"I suppose it's because I have no one else to confide in," he snapped back at her. Minerva resisted the urge to roll her eyes and watched him continue to pace.

"I would naturally discourage such a relationship especially since you two work together but I dare say that such an endeavor would be good for you, for both of you," Minerva spoke truthfully and from the look Severus threw at her she knew that he didn't appreciate it.

"She's a child," Severus bit out. Minerva did roll her eyes at that one.  
"She's twenty-nine years old. She hasn't been a child for quite some time," she countered. Severus growled under his breath and continued his pacing.

"She was my student. She was _your_ student. It is completely irrational and reckless to feel this way about someone like me. I will do nothing but bring her pain and misery. She's better off with…a Weasley or some airheaded Gryffindor," he snarled. Minerva was used to his insults and only shook her head at his remarks.

"She tried it with Mr. Weasley and it didn't work out. She tried it with an airheaded Gryffindor and it didn't work out. She's choosing you and I must ask. Is it just that you don't feel the same way? Or is it that you do?" Minerva cocked her head to the side in interest, closely watching his expressions. Severus stopped his pacing to glare at her and that's when Minerva saw it, the slight hesitation and fear that flew across his eyes before they were smoothed over with irritation. "Oh, Severus. After so many years, you finally feel something." He sighed heavily and continued to glare at her. "You can't start a new chapter of your life if you keep re-reading the last one," she remarked calmly.

"It doesn't matter. She's confused and naïve. There is no future for me besides this one. I refuse to be subject to my own feelings and desires, not again," he replied calmly before he stormed out of her office. Minerva sighed as she watched him leave.

. . .

 _If I look back to the start, now I know_

 _I see everything true_

 _There's still a fire in my heart, my darling_

 _But I'm not burning for you_

 _We've started it wrong and I think you know_

"We need to talk about this," Hermione said. Severus continued his movements without replying. They had gone a week without really speaking. An unsettling silence had settled over them, as if they were both reluctant to voice out loud what they were feeling. Hermione sighed. " _We need to talk about this_."

"There's nothing to talk about," he curtly replied. Hermione felt an unwanted pang in her chest, a sharp pain that she cursed herself for feeling.

"So you reject my sentiment?" She tried to calmly ask. Her voice came out even but she could hear the slight tremble. She saw his movement falter, his hands stopped for a millisecond while stirring the cauldron on his table. She saw the grim look on his face before he steeled it over in indifference.

"Yes," he replied. Hermione took a ragged breath in and sighed heavily. She stopped what she was doing for a moment. She gripped the edge of the table and closed her eyes. Severus watched her from his peripheral vision. His chest ached watching her react to his affirmation. It's like a hand was squeezing his heart. He resigned himself to his misery and continued what he was doing. Hermione was still gripping the table, trying to ground herself before she continued with what she was doing. She refused to leave the session just because of her silly feelings.

"Okay."

 _We waited too long, now I have to go_

 _I don't know why, I don't know why_ _  
_ _We need to break so hard_ _  
_ _I don't know why we break so hard_

. . .

"I'm leaving." Severus halted his stirring and turned to look at her. She was gripping the edge of the table again, like she did that night.

"If you are not feeling well then I understand if you want to go back to your quarters," he drily replied. Hermione sighed and turned to look at him.

"I'm leaving Hogwarts. I resigned," she clarified. Severus stopped again and stared at a point past the cauldron.

"I wish you the best," he let out. It came out quiet and unlike him. He resumed his stirring and didn't look at her again.

"Is that it?" she whispered. Severus could hear her, in their silences he could hear every sound she made. He sighed heavily and moved the cauldron to pour the potion in the appropriate vials.

"Yes." It was equally whispered and he could hear the hitch in her breath. She resumed her task and they said no more.

. . .

It was windy on the school grounds, the leaves were turning and there was a slight chill to the sun warmed evening. Hermione Granger was leaving Hogwarts and everyone didn't understand why. It was an abrupt announcement. All that was shared was that Hermione was offered an invaluable position at the Ministry and that she was going to take it. She recommended someone for the Muggle Studies position and she would be back for the Muggle-Born Society. Severus was no longer required to attend.

Everyone was gathered in the courtyard to big her goodbye and luck with her new adventure. The Headmistress hugged her warmly and thanked her for her time at Hogwarts. Hermione said goodbye to her sad students. Her eyes scanned the crowd for a familiar scowl but he wasn't there. She fought back the pain in her chest, picked up her things and walked towards the carriage waiting for her. It was unlike her to leave because of someone especially someone she felt romantic feelings for but she couldn't bear it. She tried to, she tried to fight the pain in her chest at every step and look his way but it was to no avail. The hurricane of emotions still raged in her chest and she didn't know how to get rid of it.

The wind whipped around her hair. The chill biting against her cheeks as she pulled her scarf closer around her. Dark eyes were watching her from a nearby tower. He didn't say goodbye or even see her at all since she announced she was leaving. He didn't know what he could say or do that would make everything better. He wasn't presumptuous enough to assume that she was leaving because of him but he had the sinking feeling that it was. He hated that. He hated this. Why did he always create his own disasters? Why couldn't he let anyone in? Why couldn't he let _her_ in?

. . .

A/N: Kind of written for Story Please as an apology for Round 8. Might write more to this particular story since I don't like how I left it.


	13. A Favor

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 12, for the Chudley Cannons, Chaser 1.

Prompt(s): You'll be writing about two characters in an employee/employer relationship – Bellatrix Lestrange & Rose Weasley.

Additional Prompt(s): (scenario) a Quidditch accident, (dialogue) "Move away from the door and let me at him!", (word) fix

Side Note: We were unable to submit our prompts so I don't think we really have to use them now, so I'm not going to. This is an AU where Bellatrix never became a Death Eater and was disowned along with Andromeda.

. . .

A Favor

. . .

"What are you doing?"

"I'm cleaning the display cases like you told me to."

"The display cases in the front. Do you have any idea how dangerous that artifact is?" Rose glanced at the chipped tea set in confusion.

"It's a tea set."

"If you plan on losing a limb then by all means, continue," Bellatrix drawled. Rose moved her hand away from the open display and stepped back. She turned towards Bellatrix in anger.

"Well you should have clarified which displays!" She stalked angrily towards the dark-haired witch. Bella turned towards the younger woman in irritation.

"The sign on the glass says do not touch or open! Did you really think I meant for you to disregard that? And the only display cases that are safe and need to be cleaned are the ones in the front! Use your common sense, girl!" She turned her back towards the girl and continued with her inventory. Rose stamped her foot in frustration.

"This is stupid! Why am I even here?" The girl muttered angrily but Bella heard her. She groaned and turned back towards the girl.

"You are here because your mother thought it would be good for you to get a summer job, and unfortunately I owe your mother a favor so she called it in and now you work for me. So unless you plan on going home and telling her that you refuse to work in my shop, I would do as you're told and work!" The older woman swirled in a blur of dark curly hair and stalked towards the back of the shop. Rose groaned in frustration. She didn't want to work. She wanted to have a free and lazy summer with her siblings and cousins but no, her mother thought it would be "good" for her to work and learn some responsibility. Rose crinkled her nose in derision recalling the lecture her mother gave her about getting ready for her final year at Hogwarts.

She sighed and went back to the open display case. She carefully closed it and locked it, making sure it was exactly the way it was before she opened it. She dragged her feet to the front of the store to do as she was told.

. . .

Bellatrix sighed and stretched her arms as she got ready to close for the day. The younger red-haired woman had gone home already, Bellatrix not trusting her to close shop. She carefully wiped at her eyes, and yawned. She was tired. Spending the day trying to teach the young Weasley the ropes and yelling at her when she acted like a spoilt teenager was exhausting. She cursed Hermione Weasley and the fact that she had saved her life during the Battle of Hogwarts.

Bella wasn't supposed to be there but after a headstrong Nymphadora Tonks rushed to Hogwarts to follow her foolish werewolf husband, Bella felt like she had no choice but to go after her niece and make sure that she didn't do something stupid, like get killed. Instead, she had gotten there a fraction too late and spent the majority of the time trying to find her foolish niece. She was so busy with the stress of searching for her family that she didn't notice the Death Eater that threw an Unforgiveable at her. Writhing with the pain of the Cruciatus, she was thought she was going to die. Then a mass of brown curls came into her view and the pain stopped.

Hermione Granger, one-third of the Golden Trio, had stopped the Death Eater and saved her life. After assuring that she was okay, Harry Potter who wasn't far away gave her the location of her niece. Bella cringed at the memory. After the battle had ended, she had approached Hermione and told her that she owed her a life debt. Hermione had shaken her head and said "no".

"You owe me a favor and that's it," the Muggle-born had said. All these years and not once had Hermione cashed in her favor until that summer. The Muggle-born had walked into her shop and asked for her favor. Bella, relieved that she would finally get that off her plate, thought it was going to be fairly easy. After all, if the girl was anything like her mother then she couldn't be too bad. But Bella had forgotten what being a teenager was like and she was regretting the agreement.

Bellatrix sighed and moved to close the shop. She was not looking forward to the next day.

. . .

"Why did you owe my mother a favor?" The Weasley girl hadn't said much all morning, she did as she was asked and that was it. Bella sighed inwardly. So much for the peace.

"She saved my life once," Bella replied. The girl gawked at the older woman like she couldn't believe what she was hearing. Bella just managed not to roll her eyes.

"When?" The girl pushed. Bella did sigh out loud that time.

"During the Battle of Hogwarts," she curtly said. The girl was quiet for a few minutes before she quietly started talking again.

"Why was your sister a Death Eater?" Bella froze in her movements and didn't know how to respond. She was tempted to just get angry at the girl and retreat to the sanctuary of her office but she felt like she needed to explain, to someone at least.

"My family wasn't…good. We very much believed in Pureblood supremacy and all that stuff. But my parents weren't very…parental, they argued a lot and often took it out on my siblings and me. So my sisters and I grew up very close. It wasn't until Andromeda decided that she wanted to marry Ted that I realized just how twisted my parent's views were. They were willing to disown one of their own daughters just because of who she fell in love with. I was conflicted at first. I didn't want to be disowned or shunned but I also loved my sister very much. And when no one else would defend her, I thought it was my duty as her sister to be the one to do it. Narcissa was already with Lucius and she didn't want to risk her future, I don't blame her and neither does Andromeda. One of the things Cissy always wanted was to be loved and to have a family and she had Lucius. He does love her, and she does love him despite his past choices. She was never really a Death Eater, she never got the Dark Mark but her husband was and so was her son. And because of that she is labeled as a Death Eater as well. The only thing I can say in her defense is that we can't help who we fall in love with," Bella let out in a rush. She paused for a moment before she did retreat to her office. Rose watched her leave.

Maybe her mother was right. Bellatrix Lestrange wasn't all bad.

. . .

"What is this?"

"It's...it's a cat mug."

"A what?"

"A coffee mug with a cat on it."

"And why is it here?" Bella was holding the offensive object up by the handle, taking in every detail of the craftsmanship which was nonexistent.

"Well, I got tired of using the paper cups; I thought it would be okay to bring my favorite coffee cup," Rose replied. Bella put the cup down and walked off. Rose smirked to herself and tried hard not to giggle.

. . .

"I'm pretty sure your daughter is messing with me," Bellatrix said through fire call. The face of Hermione Weasley was smiling at her as if she already knew what Bella had been going through.

"Yes, well, you did owe me a favor."

. . .

A/N: Well, sorry this is late and short.


	14. Something to Fight For

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 13, for the Chudley Cannons, Chaser 1.

Prompt(s): Knight: Write about a normally timid character going into battle.

Additional Prompt(s): (dialogue) "What makes you so sure it was me?", (colour) steel grey, (word) strategy

. . .

Something to Fight For

. . .

Neville remembers the battle. He remembers every aspect, every detail, and every loss. It is so ingrained in him like a tattoo only he can see. It's written in his blood, in his mind, in his dreams. He barely remembers the time before it. The struggle is the only thing he can feel. Hannah would watch him, so lost within his own mind that he barely heard her retire for the night. When he spoke it was with a forced enthusiasm that he didn't feel within his body. The trauma was like a vine that wouldn't let him go, laced around his body and keeping him there.

Hannah remembered a timid boy, a Gryffindor with more manners than his peers. A student so excited about Herbology that it was a life line for him when things got difficult. She remembered a child forced into adulthood to protect his friends, to protect his own. She knew the nightmares that were behind his eyes no matter how much he suppressed it. She looked at him and knew that he was falling; falling deeper into a despair he had been denying his entire life.

Neville was no stranger to loss or fear. His parents were a constant example of how war and fear can tear a family apart. His grandmother tried to ingrain in him a bravery he didn't often feel. Hannah had seen that bravery though, had seen it shine throughout him like his own personal shield. He had been a knight in shining armor, not because he wanted to be, but because he needed to be. Hannah understood, she _knew_ , she just didn't know how to pull him out of it. She didn't know how to pull him out of that battlefield and into the present.

. . .

When Neville held their new born child, he had smiled, genuinely smiled. Hannah couldn't remember the last time she saw that smile. She had hoped, hoped beyond anything that their child could bring him back. It worked, for awhile.

He sang their child lullabies and for a moment Hannah saw the boy by the lake. He was holding some plant or other, so lost within his own world that he was happy. He was delicately touching the flowers, the leaves. He whispered small tidbits to himself, the type of plant, its progress and damage. He looked at every detail as if appraising nature and all its mysteries. He looked at their child in much the same way. As if he couldn't quite believe that the child was his, that the child was real.

Neville looked down at the baby and smiled at her sleeping form. She was so content in his arms. Her nose moved with her breathing. He looked at her and saw everything that was good. She made a small noise and slightly opened her eyes to look at him. They were steel grey, a color that exuded natural coldness but all Neville saw was warmth. He smiled at her and they stayed like that, looking at each other. Hannah smiled to herself and returned to their bedroom.

. . .

Neville saw broken stone, blood splashed across a fallen pillar. Children, his classmates, in heaps of unmoving figures. They were all dead. Neville threw hex after hex to try and protect those who were losing. But everyone was falling left and right. Neville wasn't fast enough, he wasn't enough. An anguished cry escaped him as a girl with brown hair fell at the hands of a man in a mask. His wand was bursting with colors, trying and trying. He fell, tripped over a fallen body he couldn't identify. A sharp breath left him, so much blood, and so much death.

He woke with a yell; Hannah cast a lumos and looked over at her shaking husband. He was covered in sweat but he was shivering as if he was cold. His eyes were wide and unseeing.

"Neville?" she questioned. Her voice was still heavy with sleep. At that moment, their daughter began to cry. She looked to Neville but he wasn't responding. The baby cried louder so she got out of bed and headed for the nursery.

Neville was cold. His mind still racing with the images of the battle. Strategies were blinking across his mind like somehow he could still stop the Death Eaters, could still save those that were lost. His breathing was labored. His ears were ringing. He wasn't there; he was still stuck in that nightmare.

Hannah walked back into the room with their child in her arms. She was gently rocking the baby watching Neville from the doorway.

"Neville," she let out a desperate breath. Neville abruptly looked up at her and then looked at his surroundings. Home, he was home. He breathed heavily and then put his head in his hands. The dreams were getting worse. The memory of the battle still burning holes in his head. Hannah gently padded over to the bed and sat beside him. "Look at her." Neville did. His gaze drifted to their child, no longer crying but looking at him with glassy eyes. His breathing slowed and his heart rate went down. He looked at Hannah and she couldn't stand the guilt she saw.

"Hannah, I'm sorry," he whispered. She nodded and leaned in to kiss him. He returned the kiss and everything was okay again.

. . .

"What makes you so sure it was me?"

"Who else would tamper with my plants?" Neville asked sternly.

"What does it matter? Their growing much better now," Hope said in exasperation. Neville glared at his daughter, she was right.

"That doesn't matter! What matters is that you know better than to go in my Greenhouse without permission! There are dangerous plants in there," his voice was rising. Hope simply stared back at her father. She was 13 years old now and she was already the best in her class in Herbology and not just because her father was the Herbology professor.

"The PH of the soil was all wrong, that's why you were having a hard time getting them to sprout," she said. Neville's anger was dissipating. He was so proud of her, he couldn't help it. He gave her a small smile.

"You're still grounded," he replied and closed the door to his Greenhouse; she groaned and stalked back to her room. Neville couldn't help but smirk at her antics.

Neville hadn't had a nightmare about the battle in five years. He was so caught up in his family and work that the trauma just seemed to go away. He was doing better than ever, happier than ever. Hannah watched though, she was happy that Neville seemed to be past his troubles but she still watched and waited. There was still so much unresolved, that she knew it was just a matter of time before they came back. Just a matter of time before he got lost again.

. . .

"MOM!" Hannah awoke with a start. She scrambled for her wand as Neville woke up too. "DAD!" They both hurried towards their daughter's room. Hannah turned on the lights while Neville surveyed the room for any sign of danger. Hannah looked at her daughter. Hope was crying and screaming. She was clawing at her face like she was in pain.

"Hope? Hope, what is sweetie? What's wrong?" Hannah sat next to her daughter and took her hands in hers. Hope was looking straight ahead. Once Hope had grown her grey eyes had turned brown but now they were grey again. Hannah was beginning to panic.

"Mom?" Hope had let out in a desperate sob. "Mom? I can't see." She broke down in heaping sobs and Hannah looked at Neville. He looked so helpless, standing there in sheer panic.

"We need to get her to St. Mungo's," Hannah said quietly, holding onto their daughter. But Neville just stood there, frozen in fear. Hannah was close to tears, not now. "Neville! We need to get her to St. Mungo's!" She raised her voice; it took Neville several moments before he went into action. He moved around the bed and picked up their daughter. He held her to his chest while she sobbed into his shirt. Hannah rushed to the living room to open a floo channel. Neville walked in behind her and they went to St. Mungo's.

. . .

He was a shy child, almost afraid of his own shadow. He had been so afraid of making friends that he often stumbled over himself in his effort. Everyone in Gryffindor had been outgoing and lively. But Neville had spent so many years by himself, just him and his grandmother. He didn't know how to interact with other children. He didn't know how to make friends. Being social was such a foreign concept to him, the only person he ever talked to was his grandmother and she often didn't care for anything he had to say.

It was such a contrast to think of himself in his first year and then his seventh year. His peers in Gryffindor had helped him get past his own obstacles to make friends but he was still so unsure of himself. Then in an instant something seemed to change inside of him. Making friends was no longer the biggest problem he had, survival was. He had spent so many years worrying about mundane things when people were dying and evil was rising. He knew what he had to do even if deep down he thought he couldn't do it.

He had gladly walked into battle knowing that he had to, for survival, for his family, for his friends, and for the good in the world worth saving. He had endured not because he was afraid of death but because he was afraid of failing.

He watched the doctors at St. Mungo's examine his daughter. She still couldn't see. Neville watched in despair as she cried uncontrollably, overcome with fear. He wanted to hold her, to tell her that it was all going to be okay but he had the sinking feeling that it wasn't. Hannah was holding onto her like a mother should. She tried to soothe and calm her like she often did when Hope was a baby. But Hope was beyond consolation. She was falling and fast into a despair Hannah had only seen in her father. She looked at Neville, they locked eyes, and she saw the same dread in him. She turned back to her daughter, holding back her own fears.

. . .

When the doctors told them that their daughter was blind, they couldn't quite process it. Why? How? But the doctors threw out medical terms and possibilities like somehow it all made sense to them. It didn't. Hope was blind and there was no way to reverse it. They took Hope home. She had more doctor appointments but she could go home. Hannah helped her to her room. Hope wasn't talking much. She just stayed in her room and didn't say or do anything. Hannah didn't know what to do. Neville had fallen into his own despair. Hannah was barely staying afloat.

Neville blamed himself. He knew, he knew that it was his fault. He knew that somehow it was his fault that his daughter was suffering. It had to be, what other reason would there be? He went to work, did his usual routine. His grandmother had even come by to see Hope and try to yell some sense into him but Neville wasn't listening. It was his fault.

"I can't do this alone!" Hannah had yelled at him. Neville looked at her and shook his head.

"I know," he simply replied like somehow that was going to help. Hannah looked at him in desperation.

"You need to stop this. Hope needs us, she needs you! She needs her father!" Hannah yelled. Neville sighed and shook his head.

"It's my fault. It's all my fault. She shouldn't be going through this. This shouldn't have happened to her!" Neville let out in rage. Hannah was crying now. She knew that Neville had been thinking it but hearing him say it was entirely different.

"Stop it!" They turned towards the doorway. Hope stood there, her hands on the wall. She looked straight ahead. There were tear tracks on her cheeks and Neville suddenly hated himself. "Just stop it!" she let out in a sob. She began to fall against the door. Neville rushed to her and wrapped her in his arms. She held onto him and cried. It was the first time Neville touched her since St. Mungo's. She cried into his chest. Neville held her like his life depended on it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered over and over. Hope hit him in the chest and moved her head up as if trying to look at him.

"Stop saying that," she said. Neville just looked at her. "It's not your fault. It's no one's fault that this happened to me. It sucks but it happened. And I can't get through this without both my parents. I need you, dad. I can't do this alone," she whispered towards the end. Burying her face in his chest. Neville was crying freely now. Hannah knelt beside them. She held onto the both of them.

. . .

Neville won and made it through the first battle. The fearful boy had turned into a knight not because he wanted to but because he needed to. He would fight this time, for her, for his daughter and his wife. He would fight this battle with them.

There was a constant in his life and it was that no matter how much darkness may prey, there was always something to fight for.

. . .

A/N: Yeah.


	15. Her Fear

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Finals Round 1, for the Chudley Cannons, Chaser 1.

Prompt(s): Write about a shopkeeper in Knockturn Alley.

Additional Prompt(s): (word) obsession, (dialogue) "If you leave now, you get nothing.", (object) padlock

. . .

Her Fear

. . .

The word "Anti" was carved from dark wood, looming above a dark and silent storefront that gave no indication that it was a store still in business. Lucius Malfoy knew better. It was an ancient establishment revered by most pureblood families for its quality items and services. After all, why cast your own wards when you can watch a beautiful Cartwright woman do it for you. The Cartwright family had no men as far as being legitimate. That was the Cartwright code. No marriage. No ties. No male superiority. A male Cartwright didn't exist at least in name. The Cartwrights kept female offspring and often gave their male offspring to the fathers, with whom they weren't married and had no claim to any of the Cartwright business or fortune. It was rather unfortunate, if you were a Cartwright.

Malfoy men had been fascinated by the Cartwright line for as long as can be remembered. The Cartwright line was rumored to be "tainted" by many factors: vampire, veela, werewolf, even muggle blood. While normally this would be a reason for their business to plummet it seemed to have the opposite effect. The Cartwright family had already been plunged into a reputation of mystery and intrigue, the idea that these beautiful women would have relations with such nefarious creatures just increased the amount of intrigue placed upon the family. It really was no surprise that this type of intrigue would catch the attention of a prestigious pureblood family, especially one with the reputation of the men being especially perverted.

The Malfoy patriarch walked into the dimly lit store and scanned the room for the reason he was there in the first place, beyond the obvious of course. It was a tidy establishment, there never seemed to be a hint of dust anywhere and each item was clearly marked and displayed. The dangerous ones had the proper precautions and signs for customers. He studied each corner of the open room but couldn't see the item he was looking for. It's not like it wasn't easy to spot. Lucius moved to the counter and hit the small bell present.

Each visit to Anti was mostly pleasant depending on the mood of the current shop keeper. Malfoy heard small footsteps barely audible in the silent shop. He drew himself up, back straight, oozing superiority from every pore. Sophia Cartwright walked into the room holding a ring of keys and frowning at the sight of her latest customer. She audibly sighed and in a moment the keys were gone. Lucius blinked and tried not to seem impressed by it. The petite woman walked up to the counter gave him a sickly sweet smile, which almost cracked his composure. It took far too much concentration to maintain his image.

"How may I help you?" She asked sweetly. Lucius hesitated a moment before he spoke.

"I am looking for an object," He let out. She eyed him curiously and then in slight exasperation.

"What kind of object?" Her voice was bordering on annoyance. Lucius swallowed and stood his ground.

"A vanishing cabinet," He clarified. Her eyebrows rose slightly, she tapped her fingernails on the counter, and stared at him for an uncomfortable amount of time. It really was bordering on obsession how much Lucius was there. He often walked in asking to look at some items or asked about some of the more expensive services they offered. He even bought several expensive but useless antiques that had been sitting in the store for ages just so it didn't seem like he was there for anything other than enterprise. Sophia wasn't stupid. She humored him because he was a pureblood with a big Gringotts vault and she made money off of him. Beside, the Malfoys had been walking in there for ages.

Sophia remembered the first time she saw Lucius Malfoy. He was a haughty and vile teenager that often walked in there with his father, Abraxias Malfoy seemed to be fond of her mother, a raven haired fair skinned of a woman that never seemed to have an end of suitors. Sophia was six years old and reading a Potions book her mother had given her to keep her occupied while she worked. The teenager had wandered away from his father, tired of his thinly veiled flirting and wanting to just leave. He had walked to the back of the store, wanting to distance himself from the pathetic display his father was making. He had stopped at the counter, and slightly leaned on it while he waited. He heard a small noise, like someone turning a page of a book and looked over the counter. Sophia sat there with the book in her lap, deep in concentration.

"Hello," He had said, it wasn't loud enough for the adults at the front of the store to hear but it was enough for a young Sophia to gasp and look up. They had locked eyes and Lucius didn't seem to oppose going back ever since. Sophia was more than aware that it was disturbing, considering the gap in their years but that was expected, being a Cartwright. The creeps and jerks seemed to come with the name and Sophia had learned how to manipulate them into wanting to touch but never having the guts to. Instead, she watched them throw their money around the store like a cheap way of coping with their desire. She didn't mind. It was money.

Sophia came back to the present and glared at Lucius.

"This isn't a regular visit, is it?" She asked. Her voice was steady, almost accusatory; Lucius wasn't sure what exactly she was accusing him of but he kept his stance and shook his head determinedly.

"No, it isn't," He said matter-of-factly. She sighed again, moved to let him past the counter and in a blink she had the same set of keys in her hands.

"Follow me," She said. Lucius moved to follow her, he'd never been behind the counter before and he was beginning to get worked up with apprehension. She moved past a series of doors and then stopped at one down a long hallway. It was locked with various padlocks that made Malfoy slightly nervous. She picked each key with ease and precision, and lock by lock the door opened. Sunlight illuminated the room from a skylight and Lucius looked around the room in awe. The room was filled with cabinets covered in white sheets. Sophia grinned at the look on the Malfoy patriarch's face. There was nothing she loved more than breaking a man's countenance. "Is there a specific cabinet you are looking for?" She asked with a hint of smugness.

"Um, yes." He said stupidly. He mentally smacked himself for such an informal sound. He reached into his robes and pulled out a worn scroll, he handed it to her. She took it reluctantly and read it. Lucius looked about the room again before looking at her. She was frowning, the line between her eyes deepening in what could be considered concern. Lucius watched her; he never could understand what made her so magnetic. All he could think to explain it was the moment he first met her eyes. There was a fear in her eyes when the six year old looked up at him and that moment stuck with him. It was such a delicious fear that he couldn't seem to replicate in anyone else, no matter how heinous he was in his Death Eater duties. It haunted him.

There was a conflict rising in him as he watched her read the letter. The Dark Lord had specific instructions, and with the plan his own son came up with, the letter outlined in perfect detail the exact vanishing cabinet he needed to find. Her features were becoming less neutral and more disconcerting. He waited patiently. Finally, she thrusted the scroll back to him and looked around the room. She was looking away from him. It was like that for several more moments before she finally turned to look at him. Lucius nearly gasped.

The fear, the exact same look of fear was in her eyes as she looked at him. Lucius was speechless and she continued to look at him. She suppressed a shiver and moved to a cabinet in the far corner of the room. She ran her hands lightly over the sheet covering it and turned back to him.

"This is what you're looking for," She let out. Lucius looked at her wide eyed and moved to pull the sheet off. In a flash, Lucius was stopped. Sophia had put her hand atop his, the first time she ever touched him. Lucius looked at her hand in bewilderment. She put pressure on his and he let his hand drop. "If you have any decency in you at all, you know that what you are going to do is wrong." Her voice wavered. He looked at her in sudden realization. She knew why he needed the vanishing cabinet. Somehow she knew, from just reading the description of the cabinet, what was going to happen. He looked at her strangely, marveling at how extraordinary she really was.

"I am not going to be the one doing it," He replied steadily. She scoffed angrily.

"But you will be facilitating it," She countered. He couldn't deny that accusation. There was nothing he could do. She didn't understand. She didn't know that everything was on the line if he couldn't get this cabinet, if Draco didn't do what was told of him. She watched the expressions on his face and seemed to come to the conclusion that no matter what she said he wasn't going to back down. He took out his wand and she took a step back in instinct. He hated that, he hated how he was ruining this, whatever it was. He shrunk the cabinet and put it in his pocket. She watched him with a look of such overwhelming disappointment and hatred that he couldn't help but fight the urge to put the cabinet back and just walk out of the store forever.

"Why aren't you fighting me on this?" He whispered. She looked at him stunned that he was even going to say anything.

"Unlike you, I don't hurt people with my magic," She grit out. Lucius cringed and moved to walk out of the room.

"I will send you a hefty amount for this purchase," He said almost as an afterthought, turning before reaching the door.

"If you leave now, you get nothing. If you leave, like this, you get _nothing_ ," She said hopelessly. Lucius understood her. If he left he would never be able to come back and whatever it was that was between them, it would be lost. He sighed, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"You already gave me everything," He replied, his voice was hallow, like he'd lost some internal battle. " _Confringo_." Sophia shrieked as each of the cabinets exploded in a blast of wooden shards. In the last minute she managed to cast a shield. She looked to the open doorway but Lucius Malfoy was gone.

She looked around the room and shakily moved towards the door. She needed to tell someone, anyone. She locked the store down and moved to the fireplace. " _Severus Snape_ ," she said clearly into the floo.

. . .

A/N: Well, that was better than I expected.


	16. I Regret to Announce My Resignation

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Finals Round 2, for the Chudley Cannons, Chaser 1.

Prompt(s): K – Kingsley Shacklebolt – Kingsley's Office – Knarl - Kaleidoscope

Additional Prompt(s): (word) creature, (emotion) surprised, (time) night

. . .

I Regret to Announce My Resignation

. . .

Walking into Kingsley Shacklebolt's office was like walking into a completely different world. It contrasted drastically with his stoic demeanor. He was known for his professionalism and efficiency but it still surprised anyone who walked into his office to see the amount of color and the almost overwhelming atmosphere of warmth. Kingsley never offered an explanation, he didn't need to. No one in their right mind would dare ask " _Why?_ " Being in his presence often demanded a certain level of decorum that made it impossible to casually ask " _What's with the office?_ " To Kingsley, the explanation was simple. He spent more time in his office than he did at home and doing so would require at least some sense of familiarity.

Kingsley smiled to himself as he sat at his desk. He wasn't crazy enough to keep personal items in his office but he knew that sooner or later he would be forced to abandon the small haven. Things were getting worse within the Ministry and he knew it was just a matter of time before something happened that would reveal him. But still, the vibrant familiarity of his office never ceased to bring comfort to him.

He heard a rustling and moved back in his chair to watch Royal climb onto his desk. Royal was his Knarl. The creatures were naturally not trusting but the Auror had found the little creature injured in his backyard. He did whatever he could to help, enduring bites and scratches through the whole ordeal. The Knarl had made a complete recovery and Kingsley couldn't get rid of him after. The Knarl tended to sleep on his bed and pretty much took up as much space as it could. He called him spoiled and fondly named him Royal. The little thing took to the name fondly enough. He climbed onto the desk and then scurried over to maneuver onto Kingsley's lap. He chuckled and gently petted the creature, mindful of the quills.

There was one window in the office, it was superficial. It mirrored a real one looking outside but by no means was an actual window, it would be impossible with the location of Kingsley's office. It was done up in soft colored mosaics, blurring any view from outside, but it was clear that the sun had set and night had fallen. Kingsley should have been off the clock hours ago but he couldn't find the motivation to go home. He was filled with worry but had no outlet in which to rid of it. He had been successful in alerting the Order during the Weasley wedding and Harry had been able to escape but he was still on edge thinking about all the wizards and witches that had gone missing. There was little he could do in his position. The Order had pretty much told him that his cover was essential to keep intact. Kingsley didn't like it. He wanted to help, to do more. Being in his office helped calm him but there was urgency in him he couldn't sate.

"I would say staying after hours at the Ministry isn't necessarily a wise or safe option but I can hardly blame you for wanting to get work done. If I were you, I'd be terribly restless," Kingsley's head shot up in alarm but instantly quelled at the sight of Elphias Doge. Instead, he did the custom.

"What was the one thing Moody constantly complained about your appearance?" He asked. Doge snorted in derision but then sighed almost fondly.

"My 'stupid' hat," he supplied. Kingsley nodded in acknowledgement. It was Elphias.

"And?" Kingsley asked after several moments of silence. Doge had sat comfortably in the armchair in front of his desk. He had been staring at the floor as if deep in thought. He looked up at Kingsley as if unaware he had spoken, after a moment he scoffed.

"I know it's you, Kingsley. Never seen a man so at home in a myriad of colors. Honestly, this office is bordering on tacky." Kingsley couldn't help but smile at the mild insult. Leave it to the old man in front of him to actually say something. "With the way you dress it's almost impossible to accept that this is _your_ office." The Auror chuckled and sat up as Royal scurried off his lap to go Merlin knows where. It was still a mystery to Kingsley how the Knarl managed to go between his office and his home.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, Elphias?" He asked an edge of worry in his tone. The old wizard rarely came out of hiding, after Dumbledore and the Weasley wedding he seemed to have crumpled even further into himself. Kingsley didn't blame him, things were dangerous, far more dangerous than before and age wasn't a helping factor. Doge's face seemed to pale, his pleasant demeanor vanishing. His shoulders sagged as if no longer able to carry a considerable burden.

"They're looking for me, Kingsley. They were at my door. I managed to get away but I fear it's a matter of time before they catch up with me." His voice was hollow as if the man had given up. Shacklebolt frowned and stood. He needed to alert the Order; they needed to get Elphias to a secure location.

"I will send word to the Order, surely we can find somewhere safe for you," he offered in consolation but the man didn't seem convinced that he would be safe.

"Kingsley, old friend, I think my time is up. So much running, so much hiding, it's wearing me out. I can't go on any longer like this. I came here to ask you for a favor. I need you to help me." He looked puzzled at Elphias. He was unsure of what exactly he could do to help him other than alert the Order.

Moonlight streamed through the mosaic window casting a kaleidoscope of colors against his office walls. Normally such a display brought him some small relief of joy but they only added an eerie atmosphere to what was quickly becoming a somber affair. Elphias Doge would never ask him to do something as horrible as killing him but that left only one other logical option. Kingsley could obliviate him; he would end up either in St. Mungo's or in the hands of Death Eaters unable to reveal any information of the Order. Kingsley shook his head. Anger and sadness rushed in him, in a rare bout of distress Kingsley didn't think before he spoke.

"You are one of the best and strongest wizards I've ever known and I will not allow you to let someone as **monstrous** as _Voldemort_ to force you into giving up!" Kingsley knew his mistake the minute he said it. Elphias' eyes widened in horror and they both turned to his office door as they heard the unmistakable sound of Apparition. Kingsley initially didn't think it was possible in the Ministry but he was proven wrong. The curse seemed to defy even the magic of the Ministry. "We need to go!" The Auror grabbed the old man's arm but before he could do more his office door was blasted open. Three men rushed into the room with malicious smiles.

"Why Shacklebolt, who would have known. And Elphias Doge, we've been looking for you." The men moved towards them when there was a flurry of movement and one of the men was screaming, clutching at a mass on his face. Kingsley realized it was Royal, clawing menacingly at the man's eyes. He felt a rush of affection before he grabbed his bearings, held onto Doge's arm and Apparated away. They fell haphazardly onto an impeccably clean stone floor. Doge was in a coughing fit when he managed to clear his throat and look about them in alarm. They were no longer in Kingsley's office.

"How did we get away? The curse was supposed to make Apparition impossible." Kingsley gingerly stood and helped Elphias to his feet.

"My office. My rules," he said smugly. His many additional wards seemed to have held, he did have help from Dumbledore after all. He frowned as he thought of Royal, and hoped with everything that the valiant creature had managed to escape, however he usually disappeared. He heard footsteps coming from the stairs and waited patiently.

"Where are we?"

"The home of Andromeda and Ted Tonks."

. . .

A/N: Another fine example of my procrastination.


	17. Disturbed

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 1/Practice Round, for the Appleby Arrows, Chaser 3.

Prompt: Write a theme you've never written before – Betrayal

Additional Prompt(s): (setting) Department of Mysteries, (word) corporation: a company or group of people authorized to act as a single entity and recognized as such in law, (au) Talk Show

. . .

Disturbed

. . .

"Good evening! My name is Hermione Granger and this is Magical Musings!"

Hermione stared at the gray carpeting in their bedroom. The TV became nothing more than a buzzing in her ears as her thoughts raced.

Draco was asleep. She could see the rise and fall of the comforter in her peripheral vision. A hint of platinum blonde hair, almost white, poked out from under it. He had fallen asleep watching the latest segment of her show and now it was playing on repeat. The noise was comforting since her mind was restless; although, thinking back, Hermione couldn't remember a time when her mind wasn't restless.

Her knees were tucked under her and she was nervously biting her fingernails. She sat; rigid, in her favorite armchair while trying to come to a decision.

When she had agreed to do a talk show she had made sure that she would be able to talk about the hard subjects. She always was good at doing research.

Her relationship with Draco Malfoy was unexpected. There was no other way to describe it, but Hermione also couldn't deny that she was happy. They had been together for a year now, though neither was ready to broach the topic of marriage.

But Draco wasn't her dilemma, at least not directly.

She sighed and stood. She reached for her overcoat and went downstairs. She grabbed her messenger bag from her desk and moved to the Floo.

No, Hermione's dilemma wasn't with Draco but with his work.

"Ministry of Magic."

. . .

ONE MONTH EARLIER

"So it's that time, isn't it?" Hermione gave Harry a sad smile. She gently fixed her bouquet of Forget-Me-Not flowers.

"Won't you come with me?" she asked. Harry smiled sadly at her in return and shook his head.

"I don't know why you do it. I can't. If I want to see him I go to the Headmaster's Office in Hogwarts like everyone else." Hermione had dropped in to chat but every time Harry saw the blue flowers he knew why she was really there.

"Draco says it's the Muggle in me." She stood abruptly. She put on her overcoat and reached for the flowers. She stood still for a few seconds before she looked out the window. "No one should have their resting place disturbed. I go there to make sure it's still safe, intact."

Harry watched her apparate.

Hermione never went on the island directly. Instead she looked on from the edge of the woods. She placed her flowers on the ground and just watched. She was about to leave when she heard voices. She moved towards them out of instinct. Staying out of sight she watched as several people in black robes moved through the forest towards the island. Hermione recognized a few of them but couldn't place from where. They looked distinctly official with their wands at the ready.

She was just about to approach them when she saw a glimpse of platinum blonde hair. She froze in her tracks. It was Draco. She would know his hair from anywhere. She realized why she recognized a few of them: they worked with Draco.

Hermione didn't know much about his work for one important reason, and that was that Draco was an Unspeakable.

It wasn't Hermione's first time hiding in the woods and so she discreetly watched them. She was well aware her curiosity often got the best of her but she was also suspicious as to why there were so many Unspeakables out in the woods so close to Albus Dumbledore's gravesite.

Hermione quickly became alarmed when they breached the wards surrounding the island. She watched as two of them carefully removed Dumbledore's body. She watched as Draco scanned the area as if he was part of the lookout. She saw all she could handle before she apparated home.

She collapsed instantly into an armchair and stared at the concrete wall facing her. What were they doing? Why? How could Draco do this? What did the Department of Mysteries want with Albus Dumbledore's body?

Hermione's first thought was to contact Harry. Surely he needed to know. Her second thought was to speak to McGonagall, who had to know about this. If she didn't, then obviously she should. But one factor kept Hermione from contacting anyone: Draco. She didn't know the whole story and she suspected that what she saw wasn't something she should have. So, instead of doing anything, she waited until Draco came home.

Draco arrived via floo as he usually did — their floo network was connected directly to the Ministry since Draco worked there. He shrugged off his coat and smiled briefly at Hermione. He toed off his sleek black shoes and turned towards her. Once he looked at her properly he realized that something was amiss.

"What's wrong?" he asked tentatively. He moved towards her and as he did, she stood. She moved around the armchair, her arms crossed over her torso like she was upset. Her face looked the way it did when she was deep in thought.

Draco knew he had done something wrong. He watched her move restlessly until finally she placed her hands on the back of the armchair and looked at a point past him.

"I went to Dumbledore's grave today." Draco sucked in a harsh breath, suddenly knowing exactly where this was going.

"I can't go into this with you Hermione. You know I can't." He looked desperately at her, but he knew she wasn't going to drop it.

"What reason could they possibly have for disturbing him?" Hermione pushed on determined to make him explain it to her.

"It's not my place. You know I can't." She scoffed at him but he stood his ground.

"It's Dumbledore, Draco! Why did you take him?" Her voice cracked at the end like she couldn't bear the thought. He sighed heavily and shook his head.

"You know I can't," he repeated. She looked down and bit her lip. She turned and went into her office. She slammed the door shut.

. . .

PRESENT

Hermione knew the Department of Mysteries worked like a corporation. They were unanimous in their actions and their decisions. And yet, the Ministry itself had no jurisdiction over them.

She needed to know what was going on in there. She couldn't just let it go. The more research she did on the Department of Mysteries, the more she needed to know. From what little she could dig up, Hermione knew that most of their rumored research was questionable.

Also, what little she remembered from her brief moments in their many rooms was that the Department itself researched a wide range of subjects from time to even the most outlandish of all, love.

She hated doing this to Draco, but she needed to know.

The public needed to know.

If she could expose whatever they were doing then maybe she could force their hand. Dumbledore deserved peace and this was not it.

Over the past month Hermione devoted her time to her research and her work. She brought up subjects such as the Battle that took place in the Department of Mysteries. Most of the public had heard the stories, but Hermione touched up on them so it would be fresh in the public's minds. Then she broached the subject of how much Dumbledore had done to ensure the downfall of Voldemort, as a tribute to the anniversary of his death, of course. She wanted the public's minds to be ready for whatever it was that she would find.

Draco distanced himself from her. He refused to watch her shows and often worked late only to come home and go straight to bed. They rarely spoke anymore and Hermione knew that what she was doing could very well end their relationship.

She had debated with herself for the past couple of weeks. She didn't want to lose Draco. She often stared out the window of their bedroom and relived every moment they spent together.

It was dusk on a Sunday when Hermione came to the realization that she loved him. She had known it for quite some time, but neither of them had said it out loud.

She had watched the fiery glow of sunlight slowly fade into brilliant moonlight across the gray carpet. She cried without breaking a sound. Draco wasn't home. He never was when the sun was still out. Hermione had always been fiercely loyal to the ones she loved but she knew that what the Department of Mysteries had done was wrong.

And so, with grim determination, Hermione made her way to level nine of the Ministry. She managed to get into the Department with relative ease; a feat that made her put her guard up.

It looked practically the same and just as last time Hermione got lost. She opened door after door until she reached a dimly lit room with pearl white walls. It quietly vibrated with an eerie energy.

Hermione stepped forward instantly drawn to it. The door shut behind her.

Looking more closely, the room reminded her of a morgue. Her heart began to beat faster; she could hear her pulse clear as day. She slowly walked more into the room past more doors until she reached an open area. On two metal tables were two objects covered by black cloth.

Hermione approached one and nervously lifted the fabric. She gasped as she saw a fully decayed skeleton. She dropped the cloth and put a hand to her mouth in horror. What was this place? The cloth didn't fall properly and part of the body was visible. It was when Hermione recovered that she noticed a small white tag. She peered closer to read it and stumbled back in shock. Hermione made a squeak as she fell back against something hard. She turned around and whipped out her wand only to meet the disappointed face of Draco Malfoy.

"How could you?" Hermione immediately said. Draco sighed and cocked his head to the side as if thinking about how he should reply. She pointed her wand at him and looked back at the tables. "How could you?" Her voice broke and she was desperately holding back tears.

"It's not my research."

She couldn't believe him. How could he?

"But you helped!" She pressed the tip of her wand into his chest but he only stood taller.

"It's my job! We stay primarily in our own research but when someone needs help we are required to give it! I didn't like it. I didn't want to. But this is what I do, Hermione. You have no idea what we're working on here. You have no idea how we could change the Wizarding World. It's not my place to ask questions about the others' research." They hadn't had a fight in awhile. Hermione forgot how much it hurt when he raised his voice at her.

"But… Dumbledore and…" Her lip trembled.

"Like I said, it's not my research." Hermione couldn't keep it in any longer, she began to cry. She lowered her wand.

"Still so cold. Still so detached. You never changed, did you?" She could see his hands trembling. "After everything Harry did for you. How could you?"

"You don't understand." Draco gritted his teeth.

Hermione could see his demeanor beginning to break. She looked back at the metal tables. She understood, she did. She also knew it was wrong, she was certain that the bodies were there without permission from the ones who loved them. She didn't know what they were doing but she knew that it was grave robbing.

If more of the research the department was doing was anything like this then, well, everyone needed to know. Hermione moved to walk past him, to leave. She had seen everything she needed to. Draco abruptly grabbed her arm.

"I could lose my job, Hermione. Who knows what they would do to me." She pulled on her arm and then looked at him. She suddenly remembered how the sky looked that Sunday at dusk. She remembered how she felt when she realized she loved him.

"You could lose me. Do you care about that at all?" Hermione's voice trembled but she continued to look into his eyes. He let go of her arm and stepped back. He stared at her for a few seconds before he moved past her.

"I'll help you out." He kept walking without a word and Hermione followed him. She watched him open several doors before she saw the entrance.

"I love you." Her voice sounded small. She was scared this was it. This was the end. She was scared he would end it. She was terrified that if she walked through that door she would never see him again. He held the door for her. He said nothing and didn't look at her. Reluctantly, she walked through it and when she did, it closed. She stared back at the door expecting him to open it again and come through but it never opened. So Hermione went home.

. . .

"No, I didn't know. They never even tried to contact me." Harry looked entirely too calm for the conversation and Hermione was worried. He just played with the handle of his cup of tea and stared at the table cloth. Hermione sighed and took a sip of hers.

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing?" She asked him. He finally looked at her and took a deep breath. He nodded.

"Yeah. I think you are."

"You're entirely too calm. Are you okay?" She put her tea down with a clatter. She started out sounding stern but ended in tired sympathy. He sat up in his seat and put a hand through his hair.

"At this point I'm just tired. I'm furious, yes. Bothered? Yes. Disturbed? Yes. But not surprised." Hermione nodded slowly. "This will cost you. You'll lose him." Hermione met Harry's eyes and then looked away. She cleared her throat.

"More tea?"

. . .

"Good evening! My name is Hermione Granger and this is Magical Musings!" Hermione smiled at the modified camera. She waited for the audience to quiet before she stood. She walked to the middle of the stage and heavily sighed. She looked at the audience and knew that the camera was following her.

"Roughly a month ago I saw something disturbing. I saw several Unspeakables breach the grave of Albus Dumbledore and steal his body." There were several gasps but mostly whispers and confused looks. "I couldn't believe what I saw so I decided to do some digging on the Department of Mysteries. I didn't find any concrete information other than rumors about what it is they do. Regardless, all the rumors were unusual." Hermione took several steps.

"Unable to accept what was done to one of the greatest wizards in history, I snuck into the Department of Mysteries intent on finding Dumbledore's body. What I found was more disturbing. I came upon a white room. There were several other doors but I kept walking until I reached two metal tables." Hermione swallowed and stared at the audience.

"One I assume had the body of Albus Dumbledore. The other I inspected and I found a white tag on what was a fully decayed skeleton. The tag had a name, and that name was Lily Potter." The audience broke into a scramble of outrage.

. . .

Draco listened to Hermione on the TV. He didn't watch, he couldn't stand to see her. He knew the Department would figure out that she got her information, although indirectly, from him. They would either fire him or kill him. He swirled his glass of bourbon and smiled. He always did admire her bravery.

"I love you too," he whispered and threw the glass at the wall.

. . .

The Department of Mysteries was being fully investigated following the uproar caused by her segment. The bodies of Albus Dumbledore and Lily Potter were returned to their respective homes. Hermione was often stopped on the street and thanked for shedding light on the horrors of the Department. Hermione always smiled and nodded.

She clutched her copy of The Daily Prophet. A small picture of Draco Malfoy could be seen, above a story on how he had been fired following speculation that he was the one to give her access.

She hadn't heard from him. She went to work the day after it all happened and when she came back all his stuff was gone. She didn't regret what she had done but losing him was hard. She knew it didn't have to be that way. He could forgive her and she could forgive him. But they both knew they had betrayed each other's trust.

The bed didn't feel the same without him. The room was cold, stripped of its light. She often saw breakups in movies or read them in books but what they never quite emphasized was the color of concrete. Hermione spent hours just staring at the wall wondering how things could have been different. She wondered how life would have been if the discord had never happened. No, love stories never discussed the color of concrete.

No one should have their resting place disturbed.

. . .

A/N: Reading up on the Department of Mysteries, it interested me that it's suggested that the department even researches love and how it could be linked to the fascination of how the power/magic of love can even over power death. Which got me thinking about how Lily's love prevented Harry's death and then I got very macabre and wondered if they would go so far as to examine her body or even try to test her magic or something. Dumbledore was more of like how was he able to wield the Elder Wand and was there something not discovered that made him such a great wizard. I just knew I wanted something questionable to be going on so that it would create conflict and my grim a** mind went straight to "dead body". Lol. Anyways, hope you liked it.


	18. Asking Nymphadora Tonks for Help

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 2, for the Appleby Arrows, Chaser 3.

Prompt: Brachiosaurus – Write about a character who's attempt to help ends negatively for the recipient(s).

Additional Prompt(s): (colour) turquoise, (word) proof, (character) Charlie Weasley

. . .

Asking Nymphadora Tonks for Help

. . .

"The Brachiosaurus was an herbivore which means they didn't eat any meat and…"

"She's talking about dinosaurs again," Nymphadora groaned. She dropped her head on her History of Magic textbook and wished class would end already. She could hear the continued whispers of Halley Norval as she spoke about her latest Muggle obsession. Dinosaurs seemed to be all the rage. Next to her, Charlie Weasley was straining to listen as if he was genuinely interested in the hushed conversation but Nymphadora knew that he just had a thing for Halley.

"I think it's fascinating," Charlie murmured while leaning back in his chair. She scoffed and lifted her head only to see her friend balancing on an already wobbly chair.

"Yeah 'cause you like her," she snidely muttered. Charlie turned his head to glare at her but quickly lost his balance with the movement. He fell back with a clamber and the class went silent. Professor Binns continued to drone on as everyone suddenly started sniggering. Charlie got up with a grin as if he hadn't just fallen on his back trying to overhear his crush's conversation. Nymphadora took pity and lifted up his chair for him. He sat back down and pretended to be writing notes while the sniggering slowly died down. Professor Binns didn't even look at them.

. . .

"Tonks, I need your help." Nymphadora stopped what she was doing and turned around. She quirked her eyebrows at Charlie in puzzlement. No one had asked her for help in ages, at least, not after what happened last time.

Charlie's gaze quickly moved to what she was holding. Nymphadora slowly lowered the tabby cat in her hands and straightened as the cat meowed and walked away, its tail a brilliant turquoise color. He noted that her hair was also turquoise instead of her usual bright pink.

"Why…"

"You didn't see anything. Come on, let's walk by the lake." She looped her arm with his and pulled him away. Charlie looked back at the cat only to see it chasing its tail. He didn't know cats did that, though he supposed the cat knew something was wrong.

"New color?" he queried as Nymphadora continued to pull him along. She grinned and dropped his arm.

"Like it? I was brewing a batch of Cure for Boils and was inspired by the color." She did a showman gesture as the tips of her hair turned bright pink and then back to turquoise. Charlie couldn't help but smile.

"Why were you brewing a Cure for Boils?" he curiously asked. His smile turned into a look of confusion but Tonks just grabbed his arm again and started walking.

"So you said you needed help?" Tonks efficiently redirected Charlie.

"Yeah, I was wondering if you'd be willing to help me land a date with Halley." Nymphadora groaned and turned to leave. Charlie grabbed her arm and gave her a pleading look.

"I would literally rather be doing anything else." She glared at him half-heartedly.

"Come on, you know you owe me. Every time I try to talk to her, I can't get a word in. Last week she called me Carl." Nymphadora snorted. Charlie was running out of options. He had been trying for weeks to get Halley's attention but nothing was working. He saw Nymphadora talking to her the week before and figured she'd have at least some idea of how to get her interest. Charlie decided to change his tactic.

"Two words, Forbidden Forest." Nymphadora visibly shuddered and then sighed. She remembered how Charlie had gotten them out of the forest after encountering some way too big spiders. She threw her hands up in defeat. Charlie noted that her hair returned to it's bright pink color.

" _Fine_!"

. . .

"You could get a dragon!" Charlie stared at Nymphadora skeptically. She looked way too excited at the suggestion. "Think about it! She likes dinosaurs; a dragon is like a dinosaur, right?" Charlie sighed loudly.

"I want to get a date, not a howler from my mom." He threw his quill down and put his head in his hands. So far, Charlie had tried three times to talk to Halley but each time Halley either got sidetracked or was called away by her friends.

He tried to be his usual confident self, but he somehow always managed to screw it up by doing something awkward. Just the day before he was walking with her when he suddenly tripped over a stray rock. Halley asked him if he was okay, but he swore he could hear Nymphadora laughing from the corridor.

"What about both?" Charlie threw her a glare and instantly noticed that her hair had turned turquoise again. He was beginning to think that it only did that when she was up to mischievous things.

He filed that information for later and looked over at a table on the other end of the library. Halley was giggling with some of her friends. He sighed and Nymphadora rolled her eyes. "Look, your problem is that you can't seem to connect with her enough for her to actually get to know you. She talks to me a lot and I can't get her to stop even when I tell her I'm busy trying to turn my tabby into my evil minion." Charlie abruptly looked at her with a eureka expression and smiled. Nymphadora found it disconcerting.

"What if you pretend to be me?" She looked at him very seriously and shook her head, her hair turning back to pink.

"There are so many things that can go wrong. I can only hold the transformations for a couple of minutes before I change back. Besides, it's not like I sound like you."

"You can say you woke up with a dry throat. Just try to talk to her for me." Charlie was looking at her with a hopeful smile. She rolled her eyes.

" _Fine_!"

. . .

"This is not going to work." Nymphadora fidgeted in the Gryffindor robes she was wearing. They were a bit too big on her but Charlie said it would look more convincing. He was dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt with various dirt stains which she eyed curiously. He just straightened the robe and smiled broadly at her.

"It's going to work! I have full confidence in you."

Nymphadora wasn't so sure. It wasn't like she was good at flirting or anything related. She wasn't exactly sure why Charlie would come to her for help but she figured it was because they were friends. Nymphadora's knowledge of romance consisted of having liked one fellow Hufflepuff but that quickly ended when she saw him bullying a first year. She socked him in the jaw and landed detention for a month. She wasn't great at this.

She groaned when she spotted Halley coming around the corner. Charlie ducked behind a statue and motioned for her to go. She stamped her foot and then closed her eyes in concentration. He watched in fascination as she morphed into the spitting image of him.

Halley came walking with a friend and gave Nymphadora a smile. She cleared her throat and then asked Halley if they could talk. She looked at her oddly and asked if she was okay.

"Yeah, I just woke up with a dry throat," Nymphadora spoke in a deeper voice. She thought she sounded ridiculous but Halley didn't seem suspicious. She wondered what that said about what she thought of Charlie. "I was wondering if you'd maybe want to take a walk with me by the lake later." Halley looked surprised and then frowned.

"I'm sorry Carl, but I have…plans." She gave her a sorry smile and then quickly walked off. Nymphadora cringed. She looked to where Charlie was hiding and shrugged her shoulders. She could hear him sigh.

. . .

"How did you get a dragon egg?" Charlie was close to losing it. Honestly, what was she thinking? Nymphadora grimaced and shrugged her shoulders.

"I thought it would help you with Halley!" She was beginning to panic.

"And I told you I didn't want a howler! What are we supposed to do now?" He was starting to panic as well.

"I know! We'll just leave it on Hagrid's doorstep. He'll know what to do with it and there'll be no proof to link us to it," Tonks exclaimed excitedly, like it was the best idea ever. Charlie sighed.

"That's a terrible idea! What if it hatches before Hagrid sees it?" Charlie was slowly coming to terms with the idea that he might be expelled and all because he asked Nymphadora Tonks for help.

"It's not like we have any other options! If we want to stay at Hogwarts and not get caught, this is what we have to do!" Nymphadora gently picked up the egg and wrapped it in a blanket. She looked imploringly at Charlie. He groaned.

" _Fine_!"

. . .

"Halley, why don't you like me?" Charlie had worked up the courage all day to finally ask Halley the question. She blinked owlishly at him and frowned.

"I'm sorry, but I like someone else." She seemed to close in on herself like she was uncomfortable. Charlie could understand but he needed to know.

"Sorry to make you uncomfortable. I just thought…maybe you thought I was weird or awkward or something. You do know my name is Charlie, right?"

Halley looked like she was about to reply when something caught her eye. She got a dreamy look in her eye and instantly blushed. He didn't know what he expected but it wasn't this. Charlie followed her gaze and everything began to make sense.

"I have to go," he said abruptly.

. . .

"I should have never asked you to help me!"

Nymphadora rolled her eyes. She really had no idea what was going on. All she knew was that one minute she was walking and the next Charlie was yelling at her.

"No one asks me for help! Why do you think that is?" she yelled back at him although it didn't really hold any bite.

"Do you even know why I'm yelling at you?" he shouted. She shook her head and smiled. He tried to stay mad, he really did, but he couldn't. He smiled back at her. "Want to go see what Hagrid's up to?"

"Sure." They both walked towards Hagrid's Hut. "Why _were_ you yelling at me?"

"Halley likes you."

Nymphadora stopped walking and all everyone in the corridor heard was a loud, "WHAT?"

"Yep, she likes you." Charlie couldn't help but grin. Nymphadora had the most confused look on her face and he loved it. She caught up to him and then hit him on the arm.

"Explain yourself!" She demanded. He stopped.

"You want proof?" he asked. She nodded vigorously. Charlie smiled and continued walking.

"You said that she was always talking to you even when you made it clear that you didn't want to talk to her. That didn't really register with me until I saw her looking at you. I mean honestly she was looking at you like you were a dinosaur she wanted to take home and love." Charlie stopped and cringed. "It was kind of disturbing. Not to mention that I haven't seen her show any interest in any other guys in our year. And yesterday I saw her go out of her way to help you catch your tabby." He started walking again.

Nymphadora still had confusion written clearly on her face. She moved to say something but then stopped. Finally she threw her arms up in frustration.

"I hate being a teenager!" Charlie couldn't help but chuckle. They were approaching Hagrid's Hut when suddenly Nymphadora stopped and her hair, once again, turned turquoise.

"Uh oh, what are you planning?" She grinned wildly.

"Something fun."

. . .

A/N: So, yeah. This was fun.


	19. When Boredom Reigns, Mischief Follows

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 3, for the Appleby Arrows, Chaser 3.

Prompt: Troll Doll

Additional Prompt(s): (dialogue) "Pay attention to me.", (word) cryptic, (object) glitter

. . .

When Boredom Reigns, Mischief Follows

. . .

Harry couldn't believe this was happening. He desperately hoped that his third year at Hogwarts would be different, peaceful. He was incredibly let down when he somehow managed to do accidental magic, feared getting thrown out of Hogwarts and didn't, and then learned that a madman had escaped Azkaban supposedly intent on killing him. Not to mention how much he was struggling in his classes, at least the new Defense professor was better at teaching than Lockhart.

Now a supposedly "haunted" Troll doll was wandering Hogwarts. A Troll doll of all objects! The mania was spreading throughout Gryffindor tower as the toy continued to terrify students. Harry hadn't been subject to it personally but he had walked into the common room often enough to a First Year hyperventilating because it had somehow found its way into their bag. It would vanish soon after.

Dudley had a Troll doll having seen it on some program on television and demanding he have it. Harry wasn't fond of the things; they were an ugly toy that he didn't see the reason in playing with.

Harry was getting tired of hearing about it. Even Hermione rolled her eyes whenever someone talked about it. She believed it was some obvious prank conducted by an older student; she often looked at the twins suspiciously. He was just happy he hadn't encountered it yet.

. . .

"I mean honestly, why hasn't anyone just tried to destroy the thing? I mean that shouldn't be too complicated. If I see it, that's exactly what I'm going to do because this nonsense really needs to stop," Hermione droned. They were in Potions and were surprised when even the Slytherins were whispering about it.

"Neville told me that Dean tried that but it didn't work. It just slammed into the wall and then vanished again. A couple of hours later Seamus found it out by the lake." Ron turned back to his potion which was sporting a color too pale to what it was supposed to look like. Snape stalked a few paces behind them ready to swoop in and berate Ron. Harry cringed at the inevitable verbal abuse when they all heard a shrill scream and a loud clatter.

They all turned to look as Millicent Bulstrode leaned back on the stone wall looking terrified at what was on the floor. Snape stalked over there, her cauldron had fallen to the floor.

"What is the meaning of this?" Snape curtly asked. Millicent just pointed to a point next to her overturned stool. Snape rounded the table and reached down. All Harry could see was a small object with electric blue hair. Snape picked up a piece of parchment off the floor. Small colorful, what looked like grains of sand, fell off the parchment. Harry was stunned to see that it was glitter.

Snape stared at the note in disdain as if the very existence of it was disgusting. He turned to address the class when the object fell out of his hands. That was when Harry saw the Troll doll for the first time. As it fell to the floor, it got up, and swiftly _walked_ out the door. Everyone was too stunned to react or even go after it. Snape quickly dismissed the class. He muttered a spell that got rid of the spilled potion and cauldron. And swiftly left as well, presumably to speak to Dumbledore, Harry guessed.

Harry grabbed his things and looked to the glitter on the floor; it slowly vanished right before his eyes.

. . .

"It left a note?" Hermione looked skeptical even though she had seen it happen for herself. Seamus nodded in between spoonfuls of soup.

"In glitter! I'm not sure what it said but that's what everyone is saying. Now the professors are trying to figure out who's doing it." He turned back to his food while Hermione looked thoughtful. Harry didn't know what to think. He supposed it had to be advanced magic to be able to make it do all those things but why?

"I mean, I guess it has to be a muggle-born. Who else would even know or have access to Troll dolls?" Hermione thought out loud. Ron looked at her suspiciously. She saw his look and frowned. "Well, it's not like _I_ would do anything so ridiculous." Ron continued eating not looking entirely convinced.

Harry pushed around his food also thinking about who could be doing it. He reached for his pumpkin juice when something suddenly appeared in the middle of their table. Harry's eyes widened and everyone else gasped. They all looked around hoping not to have alerted the hall.

Hermione reached for the parchment while Harry reached for the doll. It was a rather ordinary Troll doll, looking old and frayed, not exactly like the more extravagant ones he had seen. Hermione scrunched up her nose as glitter fell onto her plate.

"This really has gone on long enough," she huffed handing the note to Harry.

 _ **I may have been cursed but I can still play**_

Harry dropped the note and doll onto the table. Despite not really believing the "haunted" rumors, he couldn't help but think the cryptic note was rather creepy. He watched as Hermione drew out her wand, ready to do exactly as she said she would but before she could even say a spell out loud, the doll and the note vanished.

"Whoever is doing this clearly likes the attention. I mean, seriously, all these things scream 'pay attention to me'." She reluctantly put away her wand and angrily pushed away her plate.

. . .

"What's going on with the twins?" Harry asked as the common room was crowded with other students. Everyone circled around the twins who looked a bit shaken.

"They came across the doll. Said it chased them across the grounds until one of them finally managed to hit it with a spell, it just fell on the floor and then vanished. They swear they could hear it cackling," Ron supplied, a small grin on his face. "Finally someone managed to prank them." Harry couldn't help but frown. He really was starting to think that whoever was doing it was going too far. The twins don't scare easily.

"What happened?" Ginny walked into the common room looking, of all things, bored.

Harry noted that she had been quiet in school so far, even looking to have been losing sleep. The circles under her eyes were only getting darker as the days passed. Harry figured she was still trying to recover from the Chamber the year before. He smiled at her as Ron explained what happened.

Ginny merely grinned towards the twins, the first time Harry had seen her look so happy since they got to Hogwarts.

. . .

 _ **I may have been cursed but I can still smile**_

Harry read the cryptic note the twins presented to them. Ron was holding the doll and turning it over.

"It looks so wonky," Ron grimaced and handed the toy back to the twins. Harry gave them back the note watching as more of the glitter fell onto the floor. He was really getting sick of glitter, it was starting to pop up everywhere: on the couches, on tables and even in some of the beds in the dormitory.

"We found it at the foot of our beds this morning. Made Fred nearly scream." George grinned.

"Well it was at the foot of _my_ bed. Imagine waking up to that thing smiling at you."

"It's not that scary once you really look at it. I think I actually saw one of these in dad's shed." George moved to hand the doll to Fred who swatted him. Harry's mind was turning. Things were starting to make sense.

"Hey, has anyone seen Ginny?"

. . .

"Yeah, it was me." Ginny was sitting at a table in the common room, her textbooks open around her. The twins looked at her unconvincingly.

"Why?" Harry asked. It was the one thing he couldn't make sense of.

"Well, the twins have been pranking Ron and me since we were little. Everyone keeps looking at me weird. And Snape made rude comments about the way I look." She shrugged her shoulders.

"You've nearly turned the school upside down!" Ron looked at her imploringly.

"I was tired and bored. I may have been cursed or possessed or whatever last year but I'm still me and I just needed to have some fun." She put her head down against her textbooks, yawning. "I can't concentrate on my Potions essay; I'm going to take a nap."

Harry couldn't help but start laughing. Everyone had been trying to figure out for weeks who was behind the Troll doll and it was Ginny all along. Harry looked at Ron and the twins who only looked shocked and slightly scared.

"When did she get so scary?" Fred muttered.

"I don't know. But you gotta admit that was probably one of the best pranks we've ever seen." George grinned to himself. They slowly walked away, now conversing in whispers.

"Wait, how did you figure out it was me?" Ginny lifted her head to look at them.

"Actually, Harry's the one who figured it out," Ron said. Ginny just gave him a lazy smile and rested her head again.

"Come on, let's go find Hermione." Ron tugged on Harry's arm. Harry looked back at Ginny and then smiled to himself.

. . .

A/N: Oh god, trying to figure out what to write was a nightmare. This is sort of an AU I guess. I don't know.


	20. He Could Get Used to This

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 4, for the Appleby Arrows, Chaser 3.

Prompt: Write from a pet's perspective about an adventure

Additional Prompt(s): (phrase) under the stairs, (action) running, (plot point) receiving a pet as a gift

. . .

He Could Get Used to This

. . .

As a toad, he was constantly ignored. People stared and poked at him but never actually talked to him. The few that did always ended up getting those noisy owls or rude cats. Toads were rarely picked and when they were it was usually to some groaning and whining child. He was actually rather content to just sit in his habitat and laze about. So it was with great displeasure and distaste that he was taken out of his sanctuary and given to an old man who smiled toothily at him.

The thing that annoyed him the most was that this particular man talked to him. What was he supposed to say? He was a toad. But the man continued to go on and on. He sporadically stopped to look at him as if he would come up with some witty retort.

"Going on an adventure you are. My grand nephew just showed his very first signs of magic. Very proud of him, I am. Bought you as a gift, you see." The toad wasn't very pleased to be given to some child he'd never seen. The man went on saying that the boy was timid and gentle. He kept saying that he would be treated well but the toad wasn't sure. After all, hadn't he seen many of his compatriots getting squeezed and prodded by the very children this man spoke of? No, he wasn't pleased.

. . .

Neville Longbottom was a plump boy who often cowered behind his grandmother. He was reluctant to pick him up and when he did he didn't look too pleased to be holding a toad. At least the boy didn't squeeze him or poke at him like he was a toy to play with. He briefly wished he was a cat so he could swipe with his claws and run off but he was a toad. He tried to hop out of the boy's hands but the boy followed him and managed to catch him every time.

"I'll name you Trevor. Uncle Algie said that you didn't have a name yet. Trevor is an okay name, isn't it?" The boy looked expectantly at him like he was going to answer. He just stared. He supposed it wasn't a bad name as far as names go. He wasn't sure he'd want to be named Neville or Algie. So he did the one thing he could do to communicate. He croaked. Neville smiled brightly in return. Trevor supposed it wasn't going to be so bad.

. . .

When the old man said 'adventure', Trevor hoped it meant he'd be able to go outside but he was sorely disappointed when it meant the boy would want to play with him like he was some…some _pet_. He could see outside of course but it was always beyond reach. The old woman who took care of the boy never seemed to like it when windows or doors were open and so Trevor was never able to go outside. Even the boy didn't like going outside, which the toad found rather odd seeing as other kids seemed to love it.

He was hopping past the stairs one morning when he felt an unmistakable fresh breeze. He had stopped. He sat in front of the door that was under the stairs and waited. But no one ever opened the door and he couldn't see anything under it.

"No, Trevor. Gran says we can't go in there." The boy had scooped him up, Trevor desperately tried to get out of his grip but the boy wouldn't relent and so he watched the door as they disappeared back to his bedroom.

. . .

Every day Trevor sat in front of the door and then was chased off by Neville who would attempt to pick him up but instead would run after him as he hopped away. He could still feel the breeze coming out from under the door. He had gotten obsessed with wanting to go outside and it was the closest thing he could find to it.

Even though Trevor sat in front of windows and stared out them, no one seemed wanting to take him outside. One day the boy had caught on.

"I can't take you outside, Trevor. What if I lose you or something happens?" He had looked up at the boy then seeing actual fear on his face. He just continued to stare outside. He supposed the boy wasn't awful but he still wished he could go outside.

. . .

The old woman had opened the door, finally. She had grumbled about being tired of the toad sitting in front of it and Neville constantly asking what was in there. Turns out it was just an old dingy room that she used as a potions lab. The breeze was some charm she used to keep the room cold. "Like a dungeon," the old woman had said. Trevor was disappointed, to say the least.

After that, Trevor gave up ever being able to go outside and so he lazed about in the boy's room. He didn't want to do anything. The boy watched him day after day with rising concern.

"…But Gran he's sad. He won't leave my room and he just sits there. Please, let me take him outside. I promise I won't lose him." The old woman only agreed because she was tired of hearing about it.

. . .

When the boy picked him up, Trevor didn't really care where he was going. He wasn't even listening to what the boy was saying, acquiescing that he was indeed a pet. It was when Neville reached the back door that he perked up. What was going on? Was it really happening?

Once the door opened, Trevor tried to squirm out of the boy's grasp but the boy wouldn't let him and so Trevor decided he should probably listen to what he was saying.

"You can't run off from me, Trevor. Gran let me take you out as long as I didn't lose you. Please don't run off." He had walked into an ornate garden that looked rather well kept. He placed Trevor down and the toad instantly hopped away.

Trevor was in bliss. Finally, _finally_ , this was a real adventure. When was the last time he had actually been outside? And not in some artificial habitat or that blasted house? Trevor looked around happily, wanting to take in everything at once. The boy trailed after him frantically, afraid to lose him. It was only when he looked back to see the boy in a frantic state, ready to cry, did he slow down.

Trevor hated to admit it but he was fond of the boy. The boy kept him fed and groomed. He even convinced the old woman to let him outside. He was taken care of. He'd seen other toads be tormented by their child owners and was grateful that Neville was a gentle boy.

Neville hated running but not so much when he was following Trevor. The toad seemed partial to the odd magical plants in his Gran's garden. He knew which ones to avoid and how to evade others. Neville was stunned by how much the toad seemed to know about the plants, though he supposed, it was only natural. That's how Neville took a closer look at the plants. He had been scared of them before but now he was filled with an odd curiosity that he didn't think he would have had if it hadn't been for the fearless and effortless way Trevor maneuvered past them.

Trevor watched his human run after him in amusement. He could get used to this.

. . .

A/N: This was a difficult round to figure out what to write but this was the idea I had and even though, due to computer issues, I lost half of the original and had to rewrite it. I liked it. Also, it's hot as heck. I hate summer.


	21. Pink

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 5, for the Appleby Arrows, Chaser 3.

Prompt: Use the title of a story written by your Chaser 1 for inspiration – "Small Moments"

Additional Prompt(s): (color) pastel pink, (word) eternity, and (emotion) apathetic

. . .

Pink

. . .

"The damage is extensive. They said they can heal the nerve damage but it's…" Harry took a deep breath, gripped the mug of tea in his hands and sighed. "She won't talk. She doesn't respond to anything, really. She recognizes people and familiar things but…it's hard to explain." Cho frowned and adjusted in her seat. She didn't understand why Harry Potter had come knocking on her door but the look of urgency on his face concerned her.

"How do you know she recognizes people?" she asked.

"She does this thing where she lightly touches your wrist. It's almost like a greeting but that's about the most she'll do in a visit. It's difficult to explain. She knows, but she doesn't react." Harry sighed again. He was clearly getting frustrated. "She's not the same Luna we all know," he finally blurted out.

Cho looked thoughtful.

"What does St. Mungo's have to say about it?" She sipped at her tea and watched him closely. Luna Lovegood was loved by a lot of people but Harry had a particular fondness for her that no one really understood, except maybe Cho. Despite having said nothing when her friends bullied Luna, she had ended up becoming really close with her.

Her mind was already spiraling with possible treatments and solutions. She had worked at St. Mungo's but had left when their unwillingness to find cures for curses and any damage done to the mind became evident. The Mediwitches and wizards had said it was too dangerous to try and tamper with that kind of magic. Cho hadn't agreed. She still didn't.

She had spent her time researching the different magical ailments of the mind and coming up with possible treatments to cure them. Legilimens, she'd found, could prove to be vital in healing the mind. She had only worked on two patients who willingly came to her for help after getting no progress from St. Mungo's. The people there constantly debased and undermined her work by telling patients that her treatments could never work.

Except that in the two cases she'd worked on, they had.

She supposed that was why Harry was there. She thought of Luna fondly. She remembered Luna sitting by the lake haloed by a pink sunset. She hadn't spent any time with Luna in those early years. It was only after Dumbledore's Army that she'd found a camaraderie in the blond witch, and later, more. After everything that happened, Cho felt she couldn't really trust her friends anymore. Luna had approached her by the lake, offered some friendly words and it had taken off from there. Cho grew close to Luna up until she was taken by Death Eaters.

"They said it's too risky to try and tamper with her mind or her magical core. They said they wouldn't do it. That's why I'm here," Harry explained.

Cho nodded minutely, suddenly lost in thought. Luna had always been a soft spirit, wise beyond her years and filled with a never ending light. Cho remembered it well. She had to help her, in any way she could. Luna would have done the same for her.

"I would need to see her for myself, to assess the damage. Then maybe I can help."

Harry stood abruptly, excitement and hope written all over his features. "Great! Let's go!" He moved towards the door but Cho stopped him.

"There's just one thing you're going to have to do." He looked confused and Cho sighed. "You're going to have to convince St. Mungo's to let me treat her. As long as she's under their care, they won't allow me near her."

"Shouldn't that be up to her family? Xenophilius is a mess without her, I'm sure he would agree to this in a heartbeat." Cho frowned.

"Still. St. Mungo's won't let me in the building." Harry looked thoughtful and then moved towards the door.

"I'll see what I can do. I'll be back."

. . .

Cho ignored the vast amount of stares and glares she received from the employees of St. Mungo's. She really didn't understand why they hated her. She had never done anything to earn their resentment. She'd left amicably and started her own practice so she could do what she wanted. The only time it ever interfered with the establishment was when those two patients came to her for help instead of putting their trust in the wary healers. Cho believed there was no real reason for all the ire.

She was led to Luna's room—being the Chosen One had its perks. Luna was in a very comfortable room that Cho knew was only used by high profile clients and she supposed in some way Luna was just that. Her contribution to the war efforts would insure that.

The blonde witch was sitting at a table with a healer. Luna was spasming. Her arms shook violently and her hands tensed. The healer was doing diagnostics while also conducting some spells to help ease the shaking. Cho knew nerve damage when she saw it and she knew the standard procedure to treating it. She stood awkwardly in the doorway, waiting for Harry to enter. He stood next to her, grimacing at the sight of one of his beloved friends struggling.

When the healer was finished, he stood and moved pass them without acknowledgment. Harry entered the room with a gentle smile.

"Hey, Luna. I brought a friend. I think she can help you." Harry approached her slowly with his hand outstretched. Luna looked up at him but her face was impassive. She showed no visible signs of knowing who he was. In fact, her face seemed to be fixed in a permanent mask of indifference. It unnerved Cho. The apathy fixed on Luna's face and in her posture was something Cho had never seen.

Harry moved to sit beside her and when he did he placed his hand on the table, wrist facing up. Luna touched him briefly and then looked away towards the wall. He looked towards Cho, his eyes seeming to beg her to help. Cho took a deep breath and walked into the room. She approached the witch and kneeled beside her.

"Hello Luna. It's been awhile. Harry brought me here to take a look at you and to see if I can help." She gently touched her arm but Luna didn't move. Cho felt a sinking feeling in her chest. Hadn't they been close once? Really close. She suddenly remembered daisies in her hair, light touches against her hand and fond whispers in her ear. She dropped her hand abruptly and cleared her throat. She stood and took out her wand. Harry watched curiously.

"I'm going to cast some of my own diagnostic spells, Luna. They are perfectly safe and I just want to know how I can help." She waited for some form of answer or affirmation but there was none. She looked uncertainly to Harry who only nodded.

So Cho began.

. . .

"There doesn't seem to be any physical damage to the brain that I can see. But when I look to her magical energy, there is something there. It's almost like a grey ball trapped in the amygdala. It's preventing circulation of her magic, almost like it's locking her out of what makes her, her." Cho explained. Harry only nodded but he didn't seem to fully understand.

"So how can you get rid of it?" he asked. Cho's eyebrows rose and her mouth twisted, Harry didn't think that look meant anything good.

"It's not that easy, Harry. For one, I don't know what it is. It could be some magical block or parasitic curse. I think it's the cause of her condition but my treatments could easily make it worse. Until I know what it is, I can't, in good conscience, try to bypass it." She looked to Luna who was now sleeping in bed.

"We have to try."

Cho looked at Harry in shock.

"It's dangerous!" she shrilled but Harry didn't look like that was going to stop him. She watched him for several moments before sighing. "What can you tell me about the incident?"

"Not much. She was at home with her father when it happened. Xenophilius describes it as if something was switched off in her. She was herself and then the next she wasn't. Hermione thinks it might be a result of…what happened to her at Malfoy Manor. That's how she got the nerve damage."

Harry grimaced. "We questioned the Malfoys but they didn't exactly play a hand in her torture, they were being tortured themselves. Lucius and Narcissa swear they don't know of any kind of magic that could do this. She was getting the treatments for her nerves and it was going well. Then this happened."

Cho nodded thoughtfully.

"It could be dark magic but the magical signature is different. I've been around dark magic, have seen dark curses but they didn't feel like this. They didn't look anything like this. Maybe…" Cho stopped and moved towards her bag. She pulled out of one her notebooks and rummaged through her notes.

"What is it?" Harry asked. Cho looked at him and smiled.

. . .

"So accessing fragments of her mind, of her memory could possibly give us some clue as to what happened to her?" Cho nodded.

"I would have to use Legilimency to locate any part of her mind that isn't affected by this…thing. You said she remembers familiar people and things that must mean that not all of her memories are clouded by whatever it is. Small moments, not matter how insignificant can be the bridges that unlock memories and emotions."

Cho looked to Luna's magical energy. It glowed a soft pink throughout her body, rippling in rosy waves. The grey entity looked almost subdued as if desperate to blend in with the blush strands surrounding it.

"Okay. Do it." She looked at him.

"Are you sure?" she asked. He nodded. She took a deep breath and entered the mind of Luna Lovegood.

. . .

"You know I always loved it here. Sometimes I would overhear people say how dull it is out here. I don't think they noticed the myriad of colors painted around them."

Cho stared at Luna in shock. They were back at Hogwarts, by the lake, only it looked different. Everything was lit up in glowing colors that Cho couldn't remember ever seeing. She wondered if this is how Luna saw the world.

"You were one of my favorites to look at. There was always a midnight haze to your hair, strands of dark blue and purple blending together. I used to get lost in it. Like I could look at you, only you, for eternity."

Cho approached her. She gently touched her shoulder to see if it felt real. Her hand met the soft fiber of Luna's bright sweater and she smiled. She abruptly enveloped Luna into a fierce hug.

"I've missed you," she whispered against the witch's ear. Luna's arms came around to hold her; Cho could feel her smile against her shoulder.

"We did leave things quite unresolved, didn't we?" she mused. She pulled away and gave Cho a fond smile. She was just relieved to see the apathetic mask wiped away and replaced by Luna's signature brilliant smile. Cho turned serious as she remembered why she was there.

"Do you know? Do you know how I can help you?" Cho looked at her desperately and all of a sudden the sun began to set. The small world was basked in rosy light and Luna pulled away from her.

"The nightmares," Luna suddenly whispered. Cho barely caught it. "There was just so much pain. Every point in my being torn apart and stitched back together again over and over until they were done." The light turned purple and then the grounds were overtaken in darkness. Cho looked around and then back but Luna was gone.

"Luna!" Cho was suddenly pulled and pushed, over and over, until finally she fell back.

. . .

The Ravenclaw dormitory was dark, pure ivory light streamed through the window and cast its glow on the bed that once belonged to Luna. She sat there looking towards the window as if lost in thought. The shadows thrown across her face showed fear. Cho sat with her on the bed. It still mesmerized her, how much Luna's hair looked like starlight in the bright glow of the moon.

"I'm afraid," she whispered. Cho moved to take her hand but the witch flinched away as if afraid to be touched.

"What are you afraid of?" Cho asked. Luna's lip wobbled and she refused to meet her eyes.

"The pain. The treatments were taking too long. They said it would be months before I would be fully healed. They gave me potions for it of course but I could still feel it. I could feel the burning sliding along my limbs, the stabbing in my back. It was like being back there." She seemed to crumple in herself. She hugged her knees to her chest and just kept staring at the window. "I just didn't want to feel it anymore."

Then it dawned on Cho. The magical block, Luna had done it to herself. She didn't know if it was just a result of her pain or something else, but Cho finally understood.

"You're still getting the treatments. Harry is making sure you're well taken care of. The ones who care about you are worried, Luna. They want you to come back." She looked pointedly at her but she wouldn't meet her gaze.

"They don't understand. The pain…"

"Isn't permanent. I understand, Luna, I do, but doing this to yourself could be really detrimental to your health. Your magical energy is what concerns me the most. What if by the time you decide to come out, you can't?"

Luna looked at her. Her hands slid down to her ankles.

"You really think that could happen?" she asked.

Cho nodded. Luna looked like she was considering it. Cho didn't know what else to do to convince her, so she reached for her hand again. This time, Luna let her.

Immediately, colorful sparks of magic erupted from their hands and they couldn't let go. That was when she saw it, every small moment she ever spent with Luna moved about them like a magical ribbon: every moment by the lake, in their dorms, every small touch and the first kiss. Cho's heart was beating rapidly. And then the ribbon ended with the fight that left them adrift.

. . .

 _"Why are you afraid?" Luna yelled a rare occurrence for the usually level-headed blonde. Cho flinched back._

 _"I'm not afraid. I just don't think we should see each other anymore." Cho was trying her best not to cry but failing. She was too afraid to look at Luna, not sure if she could stand to see her cry too._

 _"You blame yourself, don't you?" Luna asked suddenly. Cho's heart felt like it was in an iron grip. She could have done something. She could have made sure the Death Eaters never got to Luna but she didn't. She watched them drag her off the train, and now she was hurt. Luna was in pain because she wasn't brave enough to help the person she cared about._

 _"There was nothing you could have done without getting hurt as well."_

 _"I could have tried. If I really loved you, I would have tried." Cho walked off in her frustration and self-loathing._

Cho frowned at the memory. She should never have left. She could have been there to help Luna through the pain.

"You were always stubborn and unsure of your emotions."

"What was that?" she asked in bewilderment.

Luna flashed her small smile and held onto her hand. "When the pain was bad I would escape to my memories, mostly the memories of us. That's when I was the happiest." She looked, almost shyly, down at their entwined hands. "If I go back, will you stay with me?"

Cho smiled at her fondly and leaned closer to her. She brought her other hand up to Luna's cheek, caressed the soft skin there.

"For as long as you want me there."

She kissed her softly. It was a familiar sensation, one that always left them stunned. When they parted, the room was resplendent with the rosy colors of dawn.

"For eternity then."

Within a moment, Cho was back in Luna's room at St. Mungo's and Harry was looking desperately towards Luna who opened her eyes and gave them a bright smile.

. . .

A/N: Yep. Sort of an AU where Luna was definitely tortured during her stay at Malfoy Manor and was left with severe nerve damage, and wasn't bullied by Cho but by her friends? Yeah.


	22. You Could Have Loved Her

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 6, for the Appleby Arrows, Chaser 3.

Prompt: Characters born in December – Tom Marvolo Riddle

Additional Prompt(s): (word) estranged, (dialogue) "If you are going to breathe down my neck, at least have a mint.", (colour) cream

. . .

You Could Have Loved Her

. . .

"I must remind you, my Lord; this potion can have very adverse effects. I must ask that you reconsider this endeavor," Severus Snape said. Voldemort sniffed haughtily and glared at the Potions Master. Severus sighed and continued brewing. He was reluctant to brew the potion but he also couldn't say 'no'. The potion was slowly turning into the desired cream color and Severus knew it was almost finished. Voldemort continued to look over his shoulder every few minutes making the respected Potions Master irritable. He never liked people watching him brew. "If you are going to breathe down my neck, at least have a mint," he unfortunately gritted out. Voldemort took a step back, raising a nonexistent eyebrow, and then grudgingly checked his breath.

"Watch yourself, Severus. You may be one of my favorites but I will not be spoken to in such a manner!" He rounded the table to look Severus in the eye. He bowed his head in submission and grabbed a vial to pour the potion. He swirled the contents in the light and hummed in approval at the thick cream contents. Voldemort thought it resembled soup but he had been told beforehand it wouldn't taste like anything remotely edible.

He moved to the leather sofa in the room and sat. He got comfortable and waited for Severus to hand him the potion.

"My Lord, is this really necessary?"

"I must know. Yes, it is unorthodox and redundant but unfortunately I still want to know. You ever speak of this," Voldemort looked him sternly in the eyes; "you know the consequences." Severus nodded once and handed him the vial. Voldemort swallowed it and was immediately taken from reality.

. . .

Voldemort never knew his estranged father. He always knew that he wasn't wanted and when he found why, it left a bitter taste in his mouth. How would things have gone if he had just been loved by _both_ of his parents? The thought haunted him at night, often stealing sleep from him. He was loathed to admit it but it was why he had Severus brew the complicated potion. It was rather simple; it showed a person their future if one thing had been changed. It was a strain on the mind which was why the potion was complicated to brew in the first place and why it was deemed dangerous.

Tom Marvolo Riddle needed to know what his life would have been like if he hadn't been an orphan. When he woke it was to find himself as a teenager, his natural handsome features back into place and his red eyes gone. He looked at the ornate table he sat at in confusion. Where was he? Before he could stand, however, a skinny and gaunt-looking woman bustled into the room with a wide smile.

She hurried over to him and gave him a weak hug; he doubted she had much strength at all.

"How are you this morning, son?" She smiled warmly at him and his stomach twisted. He had seen pictures of Merope Gaunt but seeing her in front of him was different. He could clearly see how being a Gaunt had cursed her. He awkwardly smiled back at her.

"I'm fine," he managed to say. She sat next to him at the table and a maid brought them breakfast.

"You go back to Hogwarts soon, your last year! I'm so proud of you," she gently cupped his cheek before drawing her napkin across her lap. The touch made his cheek tingle. He couldn't help but watch her. This was his mother. The mother he never got a chance to know. He reached for her hand, she let him, and he just held her. She smiled warmly at him and continued to eat her breakfast.

A handsome man, Tom recognized to be his father entered the room and smiled at them. He sat on the other side of Tom and unrolled the newspaper that was beside his plate. He went on as if it was perfectly normal for them all to be together. So he picked up his fork and ate his breakfast. He was content to just go along with this version of reality.

Tom never noticed the cold way in which his father glanced at his mother or the way her smile faded when she met his eyes.

. . .

"The only reason you are allowed in this house and to be able to call yourself my wife is because of our son! And you best remember that!" Tom listened to his parents argue with tense ball of hate in his chest. He had always hated his father for abandoning him and he had always hated his mother for her weakness but hearing them argue was another matter entirely. Tom pictured his frail smiling mother and wondered how anyone could be so terrible to her.

"Tom please – "

"Did you forget your insidious potion wore off? Have you forgotten that this union is not one of love but duty? That is my son and I'll be damned if he were left to the foul creatures you call family," his father yelled. He heard the unmistakable sobs of his mother.

He got out of bed and went to his father's study. When he peeked inside, his mother was gone but his father was still there. He opened the door and entered.

"Why do you treat her like that?" he couldn't help but ask. His father looked up at him from behind his glass of brandy and sighed.

"Your mother and I love you, that's all that matters." He stood and clasped his shoulder in what would be considered an affectionate embrace but it burned Tom. He wrenched away from his father and his anger overtook him.

"Have you even tried to love her?"

. . .

Voldemort woke with a gasp and immediately delved into a coughing fit. Severus handed him a glass of water and hovered just out of reach in case he was in a foul mood. When he recovered, he threw the glass at the wall and stood abruptly. He moved towards the door.

Severus watched the Dark Lord storm out of the room.

. . .

Tom Marvolo Riddle stared at the dead bodies of his father and his grandparents. He had enjoyed every moment of torturing them for their arrogance. His father had pleaded with him. He had told him that he would welcome him as his son if he just stopped. Voldemort had sneered in his face.

He gripped the last picture of his mother he had and threw it into the face of his dead father.

"You could have loved her."

. . .

A/N: God, I had no idea what to write and I was running out of time. This is kind of late but yeah. I really need a new laptop, it's getting harder to actually do stuff. Anyways, yeah. This was dark.


	23. Hope was Lost

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 7, for the Appleby Arrows, Chaser 3.

Prompt: Take inspiration from the given movies that "killed their franchises" – Chaser 3: Lara Croft: Tomb Raider – The Cradle of Life (2003)

Additional Prompt(s): (location) Knockturn Alley, (location) Godric's Hollow, (word) limitless

. . .

Hope was Lost

. . .

Hermione sat in the ruins of Grimmauld Place. It no longer had a roof but the enchantments weren't completely broken. Kreacher had repaired them when he came back, staying below in the kitchen trying to keep his master's home from falling completely to ruin. He didn't care if she came and stayed as long as eventually she left. She stayed away from the broken windows. The last thing she could afford was to be seen.

The whole street was empty, the buildings destroyed and its residents dead. There were patrols every couple of hours and that's when Hermione would hole up in one of the rooms that didn't have windows. She was patching up an ugly cut on her arm. It extended from her elbow up to the crease of her underarm. She had been spotted near the Leaky Cauldron and a spell had hit her before she could disapparate. She couldn't risk using magic, not in that neighborhood. There were enchantments that detected magic even the wards Kreacher had put back in place couldn't keep the alarms from going off. So she tore an old grey shirt she had, cleaned the wound with a bottle of alcohol she found, and was patching it up herself.

She had lost quite a bit of blood and was feeling woozy. She needed sleep and something to eat. She definitely wasn't going to ask Kreacher for something, he would probably kick her out for even looking at him. So she scrounged in her bag and found a piece of bread, she ate it slowly and sipped at the bottle of alcohol. She wasn't sure what it was. It could be whiskey or brandy, but she knew it would help her sleep. Alcohol was often the only thing that gave her dreamless sleeps, something she desperately needed.

She leaned against the old wood of the room and exhaled heavily. The room had been a guest bedroom at some point but there was only broken furniture and torn books. She sat against the door with chairs around her to block her from the rest of the room. She often felt safer this way. She usually cried herself to sleep until her tears dried up and she was heavy with exhaustion. She remembered all of them, their faces, and their deaths.

Everyone she knew had died and many others were missing. The only familiar face she had seen in two years was Kreacher. And that wasn't much of a consolation. Voldemort didn't care for House Elves.

Voldemort had won.

Harry, Ron, most of the Weasleys, Remus, Tonks, Kingsley, and so many others were dead. Hermione had only escaped because Ron had pushed a chipped black button into her hands and before she could ask she was portkeyed to the Forest of Dean. She had fallen to the ground, sobbing. Because when she would try to apparate back or even to the town of Hogsmeade, she couldn't.

It took several days before she finally could and when she did, all that was left was death, fire, and smoke. She had walked up to Hogwarts and the bodies were piled at its doors. She stared at all the faces and cursed Ron for saving her. How could she live when they didn't?

From what she had seen, Voldemort had expanded his reign. Muggles were being killed every day, like the ones who lived near Grimmauld Place. Hermione often wondered if it was _because of_ Grimmauld Place that they were killed in the first place. The city of London had long ago been clouded in a deep fog that never dissipated. Hermione had to learn her way around without using magic and without using light. It had taken a while but she did it.

In the beginning, her objective had been to survive. She concluded that Ron and Harry had gone to great lengths to make sure she survived, she didn't understand why but she knew she couldn't take it for granted. And when she mastered how to survive in a Voldemort run London she moved onto what her objective had been before, to defeat Voldemort. So many lives had already been lost but Hermione was determined to try and stop him so others could live.

She knew Voldemort was planning something. She spent months spying on known Death Eaters. She followed their movements and listened to their conversations. All of it led to the conclusion that Voldemort was planning something big.

And that he was looking for something.

She grimaced as she swallowed a big gulp of the brown alcohol. She threw her head back against the wall. The next day she would need to go back to the Leaky Cauldron and sneak her way back to Knockturn Alley. She needed to know what they were looking for. The last time she was there the street was heavily guarded and she saw several Death Eaters bring a small package into the only store still open. She left because one of the hounds that followed one of the Death Eaters had spotted her. She ran and disapparated before the hound could alert anyone to her presence.

She could hear the unmistakable sounds of footsteps and shouting outside the walls of the room. It was time for the patrol and she needed to sleep. She took one last look at her makeshift bandage and fell into a deep sleep.

. . .

It was one o'clock in the morning when she left Grimmauld Place. It was better to travel at night for it was less likely she'd be seen. She wore a black cloak and a charcoal grey scarf that covered the lower half of her face. At that hour, the Leaky Cauldron was full of degenerates and dangerous people. Most of them were eating and drinking. They talked amongst themselves and didn't say much or even notice when Hermione walked in. She headed to the back where she entered Diagon Alley.

Several shops were still open but others were gone. They were either burned down or just gone. She walked the streets and moved to where she usually went to spy on Knockturn Alley. The alley itself had always been dark and dingy but it was often empty now save for the Death Eaters. The shops were closed save for one. Hermione couldn't read the sign on top of the store but she suspected it was an old establishment. She knew the Death Eaters kept important stuff there, why else would it be so heavily guarded.

She lied against the roof of one of the adjacent buildings and waited for the guards to change out. She knew that at three in the morning some of the Death Eaters left and the ones who stayed changed out to patrol the alley. That was when she would be able to sneak inside and look around. She had been hesitant to do it before but after what had happened yesterday she suspected that she couldn't put if off any longer.

If she was going to die, she might as well die doing what she's always done: messing around in other people's affairs. Ron would have smiled.

At exactly three, five of the nine Death Eaters left in plumes of black and the remaining four spoke amongst themselves before two of them left the sanctuary of the shop and walked in opposite directions down the alley.

Hermione waited a few minutes before she quickly and quietly made her way down into the street. She looked around and then made her way to the shop. She paused at the door, peering inside to see where the others were. She was lucky they often left the door propped open or they would have heard her enter. The other two Death Eaters weren't on the first floor and Hermione was grateful.

She took off her hood so she could see better and quickly looked around. There were a number of magical artifacts. She recognized some of them and she was careful not to touch anything. A number of them exuded dark magic and she was loathed to come in contact with them. She wasn't sure what she was looking for. She supposed something important, even some correspondence of some kind that could be informative but the room was only full of magical objects and so she decided she had to look in the others rooms.

She quickly made her way through the rooms until she reached the back room. There was a low fire in the fire place but it was full of books and on a dark desk was the small package she had seen. It was open and in the wrappings was a dark box with various runes on it.

She slowly approached the object. The air around it seemed to vibrate with some unknown magic. She gently picked it up and examined the box. It didn't do anything to her and so she opened it.

Inside was a glowing yellow orb, she carefully picked it up and noticed that there were runes on it. She looked to the wrappings and looked for any message or anything that could explain what it was but she found nothing. She put the orb back in the box and gently placed it into her own bag. She quickly put her bag away and put her hood back on. She turned to the door but it was blocked.

A Death Eater stood in the doorway watching her curiously. She silently hoped they couldn't tell who she was, the scarf covered most of her face but some of the Death Eaters could probably recognize her without it. All the same she couldn't tell who the man was under the robes and mask. They stared each other down, neither moved, and Hermione was ready to fight her way out. This couldn't be it. It couldn't be.

The Death Eater moved first, he reached for his wand but Hermione was faster. She hit him with a wandless spell and moved to the window behind her. The man's body went rigid and he fell on his face. Hermione managed to jump out the window and creep out of the alley unseen.

. . .

The patrols went by more frequently and there was a lot of shouting. Hermione suspected that whatever she took was very important. She didn't much mind to it though. Instead she sat with books around her trying to figure out what the orb was.

It wasn't until several days later did she find a clue. It was in an old book of mythologies that she saw a picture that looked similar to the orb. Somehow it was connected to Pandora's Box. Hermione was deep in thought when she remembered reading something about the box. She ruffled through her many books until she found what she was looking for. It was nothing more than a mention. The Peverell family, along with rumored to have been the ones to wield the Deathly Hallows, were said to have been protecting an ancient artifact, also known as Pandora's Box. It couldn't be opened and the way to open it had been lost long ago. Hermione stared at the box she found. Could she be holding the key to Pandora's Box? And what did Voldemort want with Pandora's Box?

It was with deep contemplation that she decided she needed to go to Godric's Hollow. She hadn't been there since she'd gone with Harry and she was afraid of what it was like now. Had Voldemort destroyed the village like he had destroyed so many places? Was there anything there to find? Was there danger of her being caught?

. . .

Hermione apparated just outside the village and was stunned at what she found. The village had burned to the ground. There was still smoke rising from the damaged stone and wood. She walked down the streets covered in ash and mourned for what once was. It had been a quaint town, small but still beautiful and now there was nothing left.

Hermione stopped walking and looked around. What was she doing? Maybe the orb she had meant something and maybe it meant nothing. She spent her days cowering in Grimmauld Place and looking for some way to defeat Voldemort when she should know, there was no way to defeat him. They had already lost. Everyone she knew was gone, she was alone, and there was nothing she could do to change that.

Her mind was reeling and her emotions were going haywire. She couldn't keep control of it all anymore. She didn't see them coming and she didn't see the spell that hit her. She fell to the ground and ash fell around her like snow. She saw them coming towards her and then she saw darkness.

. . .

"Hermione Granger, the famous Mudblood. The one that got away. Do you have any idea how long we've been looking for you?" Hermione struggled to see. She kept blinking but her vision was blurry. She recognized that voice though, it was Voldemort. She struggled in her binds and the more she struggled the tighter they got. "You've posed quite a problem for my followers. Even when they questioned the old witch she had no idea where you were. Or so she said. You're quite clever too, odd for a Mudblood. You figured out my plans and successfully stole the orb. So tell me how did you plan on stopping me?"

Hermione's vision finally cleared. Voldemort held the orb in his hands. She had no idea where they were only that it was a room made of stone and there was a small box on an altar. What was he going to do?

She looked at Voldemort and he looked at her expectantly but she kept her mouth shut. He grabbed her roughly by the throat and hissed at her. She focused on keeping still. She was going to die, she was sure of it.

"Pandora's Box was said to have contained many horrors and because of that it was heavily guarded. When the orb was created, you see Pandora's blood resides in the orb and since only she can open it, only the orb can open it. They were separated, the orb and the box. But I know of another power the box contains. The horrors and powers are limitless, you see. The gods made it that way." He abruptly let go of Hermione, she stumbled and fell onto her knees painfully. Voldemort moved towards the altar.

"The box can also bring back the dead. And that is what I plan to do. You see, I lost many faithful and powerful followers in this useless war. I would very much like to have them back. The followers I have now are dull and weak, they let a Mudblood overpower them and I can't have that. I need my most powerful lieutenants back again. And this box will bring them back. And after I will unleash its horrors on the rest of the Muggle world." Hermione watched in terror as Voldemort brought the orb closer to the box. He began to speak in a language she didn't know.

The room vibrated and seemed to tilt. Hermione struggled in her binds. Then with a loud noise the box opened and she watched as dark figure after dark figure emerged from it. She recognized some of the figures and her being filled with fear.

Time seemed to stop and Hermione used all her magic to break the binds. She forced her exhausted body to move towards Voldemort. He didn't see her coming; he was too focused on the box and its contents. She pushed him and the orb dropped from his hands and she caught it.

She stood on shaky legs while she heard him scream at her. She brought the orb down onto the alter and before it shattered she saw the unmistakable eyes of Harry Potter stare back at her from the box. A loud gasp escaped her as the box shut. It dawned on her. She could have brought them back. She could have brought all of them back. It would have taken a moment.

There could have been hope that Voldemort could still be defeated. But instead, Voldemort had brought back a number of his most powerful followers and she was trapped there with them.

All hope left her and she fell onto the floor. It was like she couldn't breathe. She had been so close to salvation and she didn't know until it was too late. Her vision blurred and she realized she was crying. Her hand was bleeding from smashing the orb. She stared at the blood and wondered why she was alive. Why had Harry and Ron saved her? Did they think she was the only one who could figure out how to destroy Voldemort? Did they think she was the key to victory? How foolish they had been. She hit the ground in anguish, she had failed.

" _Avada Kedavra_."

. . .

A/N: This probably would have been written better and more epic if I didn't have a word limit and if I actually felt like writing but here we are. I took more inspiration from Pandora's Box than anything else in the film and I didn't watch it so whatever. What I've read about the box in mythology is that when Pandora opened it all the bad stuff got out and when she closed it in fear hope was said to have been left in the box and the gods did that on purpose because the whole point of Pandora and the box was to punish mankind. I liked that aspect of the story.


	24. Nightmares

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 8, for the Appleby Arrows, Chaser 3.

Prompt: K-POP Song – Dinosaur by AKMU – Theme: Believing in the unbelievable even when nobody else does.

Additional Prompt(s): (dialogue) "And then I wondered…why do they need fixing? Everyone and everything is broken in some way anyway." (emotion) frustration, (theme) falling in love with the wrong person/thing

. . .

Nightmares

. . .

When she was a child she had nightmares. She would dream of dark misty figures that followed her no matter where she explored in her dreams. As she got older the figures slowly took shape. They were werewolves.

She didn't understand why the nightmares followed her. But they did. Even when she turned eleven and went to Hogwarts, the nightmares followed her. The last thing she ever wanted was to show any sign of weakness. Especially with the reputation she was cultivating.

But she still woke up in a cold sweat with the silhouettes of werewolves still in her vision. It was ridiculous. But as she got older the nightmares never ceased. She tried everything, she really did. She did everything she could to fix the nightmares. She tried magic, tea, even some of the muggle medicine some of her friends had but nothing worked.

And when she became an Auror, the nightmares became a taunt. She was an Auror, she wasn't supposed to be afraid of anything. But without fault, she woke up in a cold sweat because of a nightmare about werewolves.

It was becoming increasingly frustrating to have to deal with this especially when it was beginning to affect her concentration at work.

And then, she met Remus Lupin. Working with the Order of Phoenix was something she was infinitely proud of but she wasn't aware that werewolves were a part of that Order. At first she was wary of him but the more those she respected trusted him the more she did too. And then she talked to him. He was not only kind but pleasant to be around and every time he smiled, her heart began to race.

Slowly, the nightmares faded away and she wondered why she was ever afraid of werewolves to begin with.

She loved being in his company, he had a way of making her smile that she hadn't felt since she was a child. And almost instantly, albeit gradually, her views on werewolves changed.

Why did everyone believe that they were all horrible?

"You once mentioned that you had bad nightmares, did you ever figure out a way to fix it?" Remus Lupin asked. She smiled to herself.

"They went away on their own but you know, sometimes I feel like the nightmares were trying to tell me something. Maybe I shouldn't have been so afraid, y'know?" she replied thoughtfully. He watched her curiously. "And, anyways, I wondered…did they really need to be fixed? Everything and everyone is broken in some way anyways." She smiled at him and he smiled back at her.

The black misty figure swam in her peripheral vision. She ran through the woods away from them but no matter what she did she couldn't run fast enough. She was growing more frustrated by the minute but her feet felt like lead and it felt like she was running through mud. The figure's fingers grazed her shoulders and her arms, grabbing for her but always seeming to miss. She screamed and struggled, trying to get away but she was barely keeping out of reach.

The figure followed her and the moments she allowed herself to turn around she would catch glimpses of it, the werewolf. She felt small, like a child again trying to fight her nightmares away and wake up but she couldn't. She didn't watch her footing and she tripped over a broken branch. Her ankle twisted painfully and she wondered if she was really asleep. She came face to face with the werewolf and she knew without a doubt that she was going to die.

She closed her eyes and braced herself but when nothing happened she opened them. The werewolf stood in front of her and just stared and then almost tentatively reached out towards her. She flinched away and his hand faltered but she stayed, paralyzed in fear. Then he tried again and she realized the werewolf was holding his hand out for her. She stared at him and realized that the dark figure was taking shape. Color was starting to swim into the figure giving it solid form.

She stared back undeniably into the eyes of Remus Lupin. She smiled brilliantly and took his hand. The werewolf pulled her up and she suddenly woke up. She was alone in her apartment and the sun was barely rising over the horizon. She smiled to herself and settled herself back into her comfy bed. It was the first dream she'd had like it in a while. And faintly, she remembered that it had been the full moon and Remus was somewhere sleeping off his transformation.

She sighed contentedly knowing that the nightmares were no more and that she no longer feared what she had feared for so long. She had fallen in love with Remus Lupin despite everyone telling her that such a thing was dangerous but they didn't know Remus like she did. And she relished that thought. There was nothing that could keep her away from him not when she had been waiting for him to come since she was a child.

She wondered if he had always been the one in her dreams and a part of her knew it was true and then another part wondered if they were in fact meant to be. And what that meant for them. She loved him with every fiber of her being and she was determined to make sure he knew that no matter what and every day.

She had waited so long and now that she had him, she was never going to let him go. It had taken forever and a lot for him to accept her. It took a lot for him to believe that she was genuine. She smiled into her pillow that smelled like him and couldn't wait for him to come home.

. . .


	25. Contingency Plan

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 9, for the Appleby Arrows, Chaser 3.

Prompt: Ginny Weasley

Additional Prompt(s): (word) harm, (setting) treehouse, (word) evoke

. . .

Contingency Plan

. . .

Ginny Weasley stared up at the ceiling of the treehouse she was trapped in. The wood was chipped and signs of mold were evident. She wondered what it would take for the wood to break. If she hit it hard enough, would it give? Could she somehow manage to climb her way out? But Ginny knew it would be a useless attempt. She could barely lift her arms and her legs had gone numb. If she moved then he moved. It was ridiculous, really. She knew she didn't have the strength to fight him off. But she couldn't help but think about it.

How many times had her mother warned her not to go off on her own? She should have known better. She really should have.

. . .

Her hair was cast around her like a crimson halo and Lucius Malfoy wondered if she had ever considered modeling. Merlin knew she had the looks for it. He noted her sharp cheekbones and milky white skin. She truly was a sight to behold but Lucius knew that her face was gaunt and she was pale because she hadn't eaten in three days. It had been hours since he'd seen her actually move but he knew she was still alive by the way her eyes traced the ceiling and the subtle lift of her chest. He didn't want to be there.

Somehow he had gotten roped into the whole mess and he found himself wondering if there was any way he could just leave. It's not like he wanted to sit in a decaying treehouse waiting for Merlin knows what. But he feared the Dark Lord, more than anything.

He thought of Draco and Narcissa. He couldn't disobey, not matter how much he wanted to. His family was always at stake.

He knew something was going on. Three Death Eaters had kidnapped the Weasley girl for some purpose. The Dark Lord had told him to make sure she didn't get away. Lucius had watched as he poured over molding tomes, obviously searching for something. And so he kept watch in a treehouse that smelt faintly like mold, keeping vigil like an old lighthouse keeper.

It was becoming unsettling.

He had almost unintentionally killed the Weasley girl once. He wondered if she knew that. She never spoke. She drifted in and out of consciousness, not even acknowledging that he was there. He wondered if the Dark Lord meant to kill her but that seemed like such a waste. Though she was a Blood Traitor, she was still from a pureblood family. Lucius had killed children before, had witnessed it, but something about possibly killing this young girl rubbed him the wrong way. It felt _wrong_ , and that caught him off guard. When had anything ever felt _wrong_ to _him_?

Lucius sighed audibly but the girl still didn't move, not even a twitch.

It would be easy to harm her and who knew maybe the Dark Lord even expected it but Lucius didn't want to. She looked far too ethereal on the treehouse floor to even touch. He scoffed to himself. He really must be growing old or maybe his time in Azkaban really did change something in him. He didn't enjoy the things he used to, like torturing.

He took a look at the girl and saw a pureblood child who had no reason to be harmed or killed. And something worried at him that she was there just for that.

"Why do you think you're here?" he blurted it out before he could even think about it. He clamped his lips shut and hoped that she wouldn't answer him. He really shouldn't be speaking to her. But the fiery girl turned to look at him, capturing him in her gaze.

. . .

Did he not know why she was there? She looked at him, scrutinizing everything about him. He looked different from the last time she saw him. He looked older, more haggard and drained. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top and his cuffs weren't either. His outer jacket looked slightly torn in places like he didn't really care to fix it. She wondered if he knew how awful he looked.

She turned back to stare at the ceiling.

"It can't be anything good." Her voice came out sounding rough and she suspected it was because her throat was dry and her lips were cracked. She had been given water but not enough of it. A moment after she replied to him he burst out laughing. A low chuckling that warmed her though she didn't know why. At least someone was smiling. When was the last time she saw a genuine smile? Her family tried to but it always looked forced. With Ron, Harry, and Hermione doing Merlin knows what, there was little to smile about lately.

He abruptly stopped laughing and she turned to look at him. He seemed to be listening for something and so did Ginny. And she realized there were footsteps and then the sound of someone coming up to the treehouse. She steeled herself. Whatever was coming, she knew it wasn't good.

. . .

She was grabbed roughly by her arm, yanked up and pushed against the wall. She sat roughly and tried not to make a sound. She didn't want to give them the satisfaction. She glared at the Death Eater she didn't recognize and tried not to cower at the gaze of Voldemort. He looked at her with glee and it made her shiver. Lucius Malfoy stood behind them. His head was lowered and he refused to look at her. _She was going to die_. The thought immediately sprung into her mind and she pushed back her fear. She didn't want to cry, not in front of them.

She heard whimpering and watched as the unknown Death Eater pulled a shaking man through the treehouse latch. The man was bound and shaking violently. Ginny wondered if he had been tortured or if he was just afraid. She knew the Cruciatus curse could cause shaking and she winced at the thought. At least Malfoy hadn't tortured her.

The man was thrown to his knees in front of Voldemort. She watched as he took out his wand and muttered an odd incantation that she couldn't make out then abruptly he yelled, " _Avada Kedavra_!"

Ginny closed her eyes and tensed waiting for it to happen but nothing did. She opened her eyes and saw the shaking man lying unconsciously on the floor. His eyes were open and unseeing.

Suddenly she felt something. It rushed through her unexpectedly and almost painfully. It was an instant and Ginny fell to her knees. Did Voldemort evoke some sort of spirit? Was it some kind of old magic? What happened? Ginny noticed that the wood under her hands had cracked. The treehouse really was in no condition to be used.

She was roughly pulled to her feet and Ginny was looking into the eyes of Voldemort. He stared at her intently like he was searching for something. He must have found it because he suddenly smiled. It was a cruel smile and Ginny shivered.

"I wonder how much the ones you care about love you. Would they be able to do it? Would the famous Harry Potter be able to do it?" She stared back at him and hardened her gaze. What was he talking about?

"Finally, it's finished." His fingers traced her cheek delicately almost lovingly. "You are my contingency plan. My new Horcrux."

. . .

A/N: Unfortunately, I did not finish this fic in time for the deadline so this was not submitted into the competition but I did eventually finish it and I still posted it. So…enjoy? Also, this story took a different turn. I was going to have something happen where Ginny escaped and Malfoy helped her which is why there's a brief part of his point of view but I changed it at the last minute so yeah…


	26. But I Love Him

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 10, for the Appleby Arrows, Chaser 3.

Prompt: Write about a fight within the family (such as over marriage, finance, property, etc.)

Additional Prompt(s): (object) potion vial, (word) objection, (pairing) Andromeda Black/Ted Tonks

. . .

But I Love Him

. . .

"Nymphadora, are you sure this is what you want?" Tonks resisted the urge to roll her eyes and nodded decidedly. She had told her parents about Remus and so far they were taking it well.

"But – he's a werewolf," her father said like she didn't already know that. She resisted the urge to groan. She knew that this was going to happen. She had hoped it wouldn't and she knew that her father wouldn't be satisfied unless he actually met Remus. Remus had a way of making people feel at ease. She wasn't that skilled at easing people's fears.

"I'm well aware of that, dad," she replied nonchalantly. Her father looked like he was slowly working his way up to losing it while her mother continued to look at her critically. Tonks had long ago figured it was a Black thing and never questioned her mother when she got that look on her face. Usually, Tonks didn't like what her mother was analyzing in her head.

"He is quite older than you. Not to mention, unemployed," her mother spoke evenly and irked her to no end. At least she hadn't commented on the werewolf thing. Her mother took a tentative sip of her cup of tea and continued to look at her expectantly.

"I don't care about the age difference. And I can assure you, Remus had the same issue but I've talked it out with _him_. As for unemployment, Remus spends most of his time working for the Order, something I'm sure you can both approve of. Besides, I'm an auror; I'm more than willing to provide for the both of us. And I'm pretty sure he will do everything in his power to contribute." She watched her mother for her reaction but she didn't get one. Instead, her father had stood abruptly.

"I cannot and will not approve of this match," he said it like she was telling him she was going to marry Remus. This, to Tonks, wasn't the worst idea. Tonks scoffed at her father's objection. She loved her parents dearly but sometimes they could be really thick.

"Fine, Remus and I will be quite happy on our own." She stood then and her mother put down her tea cup and stood as well. Tonks expected her mother to let her leave and then later on invite her back once she had a chance to talk some sense into her father but she didn't.

Andromeda Tonks put one dainty hand on her husband's arm and made him turn to look at her.

"Our daughter is in love. Yes, he's older than her and a werewolf but he's a good man. From what I've heard from Dumbledore, he's the perfect bachelor and gentleman that we could possibly want our daughter to pursue. Let me ask you this, has our daughter ever looked as happy as she does now that she's with Remus?" Tonks held her breath. Her mother was warm and affectionate but never in conversation. Anything to do with feelings was usually a touchy subject and Tonks long believed it was a negative side effect of her mother's childhood. The Black family was infamous for their frigidness.

Her father looked like he wanted to object and possibly yell something insulting about her new beau but then he looked at her. Tonks hoped she was giving him a look that said _"yes! I'm in love!"_ but she wasn't sure if she had managed it. Her father grimaced and sighed heavily. She knew he was going to give in.

"I don't trust that he's a werewolf but I do trust you. I expect you to bring this man around so that your mother and I can get a proper reading on the poor sap," her father said, and sat back down. Her mother sat back down as well. Tonks moved to sit and was slightly startled when her mother pulled out a potions vial from her pocket.

Tonks knew what the potion was in an instant and smiled widely.

"Tell Remus that the Tonks family wishes him well and in repayment for such a gift he has to come by for tea and again for dinner. No excuses." Tonks took the vial of Wolfsbane Potion and beamed at her mother. Her father looked slightly puzzled but then shrugged and went back to what he had been doing before she arrived, reading the Daily Prophet.

Andromeda Tonks was an extraordinary woman and obviously had known what was going on with her daughter.

. . .

A/N: This was short. I was unable to submit and post for the last three rounds of Quidditch. Life got in the way and the same happened with the rest of my team but I still wanted to write these so I could finish the collection in which these stories belong to. So I'm sorry if these last stories are kind of short. I'm working on my Fallout fanfic where my goal for each chapter is at least 4,000 words so…yeah.


	27. Alone

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 11, for the Appleby Arrows, Chaser 3.

Prompt: Inspiration from American Horror Story

Additional Prompt(s): (dialogue) "Stay out of my room!", (object) broken mirror, (colour) lilac

. . .

Alone

. . .

"Stay out of my room!" The house almost shook with the intensity and volume of the shout. Harry Potter covered his ears and grimaced. His godfather Sirius and his brother Regulus had been fighting nonstop since Sirius had come back. Sirius hadn't known that his brother was now a poltergeist set on haunting the dismal Grimmauld Place. Everyone had done a good job of keeping out of his way and not bothering him but Sirius had made it his mission to constantly bother his younger brother.

Harry was tempted to yell at Sirius to leave him alone but decided against it. Yelling at Sirius wouldn't do any good, it's not like he was inclined to listen. Sirius wouldn't give any telling information regarding his brother's death so Harry and his friends had gone about guessing. The only thing Sirius had cared to share was that his brother had been a Death Eater.

Ron had looked angry at this and Hermione had scrunched up her nose but Harry had a feeling that there was more to the story. After all, how had he died? And why was he still there?

Kreacher seemed to be fonder of the purple poltergeist than anyone else in the place. Harry had glimpsed him leaving the kitchen in the dead of night and back up to where his room was. The only person he seemed to willingly visit was Kreacher. He never stopped to bother Sirius and the only time they communicated was when they were yelling at each other.

Harry wondered why Sirius wouldn't just leave him alone.

. . .

"Why did you stay?" Regulus nearly jumped at the voice but managed not to. Sirius never spoke softly to him, it was always just yelling. He didn't turn to acknowledge the man or even reply.

Regulus didn't know why he stayed. He supposed it could have been for Kreacher. The poor house elf had done so much for him already that he felt in some way that he owed him for it. Maybe it was the locket. Maybe his soul unintentionally stayed to make sure that the locket would be destroyed. But he didn't want to think about it and he definitely didn't want to discuss it with his older brother.

He had poured through countless books but he wasn't any closer to figuring out how to destroy the locket, and he was running out of sources of information. He could feel his brother staring at him as if it would somehow will him to answer him. He ignored him.

"You didn't have to join him, you know. You didn't have to stay. You could have left…with me." Regulus did turn around at that.

"And where was I going to go? Stay with you and the Potters? They didn't like me and they definitely didn't _want_ me. I had nowhere to go. No path to take but the one I did. You don't know what my life was like without you in it. You don't know what I had to go through!" Regulus through an old vase at his brother and moved to his room but Sirius followed him.

"You had a choice! We all had a choice!" Regulus didn't want to hear any of it and threw another random heirloom at him. When they reached the door to Regulus' room he stopped and faced his brother.

"You left me." Sirius had stopped in his tracks and had the audacity to look ashamed. Regulus scoffed and continued into his bedroom. Sirius didn't follow him.

. . .

Regulus liked to keep tabs of who was in the house, why, and what they were doing including his older brother. And when he made his way into his bedroom to see his older brother speaking into a small broken mirror, he didn't know what to think. He knew what the artifact was, of course, but he wasn't sure who Sirius was speaking to.

So he perched, out of view, and listened. Sirius was speaking to his godson, Harry Potter. Regulus didn't know what to think of Harry Potter. The boy was headstrong and impulsive. Something about him reminded Regulus of the Dark Lord and that sent his skin crawling. But he couldn't deny the affection he could hear in Sirius' voice. He obviously loved the child. A small stab of jealously settled uncomfortably in his chest and he retreated back to his own room.

Regulus couldn't remember the last time Sirius had been as affectionate with him.

. . .

"I thought you'd want to know," Regulus didn't turn to look at the boy. Just like he never acknowledged the others who seemed to make it their duty to tell him about his brother. Sirius had died. He had heard it so many different times from various people that it was becoming annoying. He knew Sirius was dead and there was nothing he could do about it.

The first time he had been told was…odd. He hadn't known how to feel. The more they kept coming to him though, the more it hurt. He couldn't reach Sirius and he definitely couldn't bring him back. And he was tired of people asking.

Harry Potter was the most recent and he didn't want to speak to him. He could see how much it had affected the child, how much it had hurt him. But he didn't have any words of comfort. He just wanted to be left alone.

. . .

A/N: This was supposed to be longer and possibly more dramatic but I cut it short because yeah. It's loosely supposed to be similar to Murder House lol. I'm really just trying to get these short one-shots over with so I can move on.


	28. Connection

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.**

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 12, for the Appleby Arrows, Chaser 3.

Prompt: Ron's relationship with one of his parents

Additional Prompt(s): (object) book, (word) ferocious, (word) potential

. . .

Connection

. . .

Ron Weasley loved his parents. He really did. It's just sometimes they were a bit much. His mother constantly worried and reprimanded them in everything they did. Their father was the more lenient one. Arthur Weasley tended to be soft on his children much to the dismay of his wife. And Ron often felt he couldn't truly connect with either of them.

He even felt separate from his siblings. Meeting Harry Potter had been a small blessing. They connected easier then Ron ever could with any of his family members. That often meant that he spent most of his summers playing Quidditch with his siblings, listening to Chudley Cannon matches, and playing Wizards' Chess with anyone who dared to challenge him. That was how he spent his time at least until Harry managed to join them at some point.

It's not like his parents didn't try to bond with him. Molly made it a point to teach her children basic house hold matters but she often did everything with an unintentional ferocity. Arthur mostly wanted to share his love for everything muggle with his children but they often weren't that interested. Ron thought his father had a lot of potential to do better things and he could never really understand why he didn't.

Overall, Ron loved his parents but he didn't completely believe that he had anything in common with them.

. . .

"Dad, can you tell me about muggles?" Arthur blinked owlishly at his youngest son. He was filled simultaneously with confusion and excitement.

"Yeah! What…what brought this on?" He gestured for his son to follow him to his shed where he kept all his muggle contraptions. He glanced back at Ron. He was looking at his feet as they walked and seemed a bit reluctant to give his reason.

"It's just both my friends grew up with muggles and I want to know more about what that was like," Ron mumbled. Arthur was surprised and proud of his son's initiative to learn more about his friends.

When they entered the shed he gently shoved a few books into his son's hands and explained what they were about. For once, Ron Weasley was listening attentively.

. . .

A/N: So, I really wanted to get this over with. I started out writing this thinking it was going to be longer but I got tired of this story about half way through so I rushed it. Sorry about that. These last few stories are prompts I had but didn't get to execute in time for the competition. I think this is the last story. I am eager to finish this collection.


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